


The Song Without Words

by Lelantus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (Not IM3 A:AOU or CA:CW compliant), (also not A:IW compliant), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Both Tony and Steve have issues and soulmate related issues, But complete with a very sappy happy ending, But they figure them out, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Explicit sexual content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More angst than I usually write, POV Tony Stark, Pining, Slow Build, With some fairytale-like elements, also, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2018-11-01 16:52:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lelantus/pseuds/Lelantus
Summary: Everyone knew what happened when soulmates touched each other. Whether it was hands clasping together, fingers brushing across a jaw, or lips meeting in a kiss - it didn’t matter. Any skin-to-skin contact and chests started glowing with soft, white-blue light. Soul-light, it was called.Tony woke up in a cave in Afghanistan with a hole in his chest and wires coming out of it and felt his blood run cold. He knew instinctively what it meant. He’d lost his ability to produce a soul-light. And so no matter how much he yearned for it in the secret, hidden corners of his heart, Tony would never find his soulmate.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Potential content warnings: explicit sexual content, characters dealing with/displaying symptoms of PTSD, references to alcoholism, canon-typical violence.
> 
> Mostly canon through the Avengers, then diverges. IM3 never happens (no extremis, Tony never gets the arc reactor removed). It diverges again after CA:TWS to an AU where the Avengers have reformed - financed and organized by Tony - and continue to do superhero stuff.
> 
> Soulmate concept based on [this comic](http://zakuro-san.tumblr.com/post/76058615482/based-on-this-post-satinhands-no-but-imagine). I once promised myself I would never write a soulmate AU (so many lovely ones have been written by better authors than me), but once I stumbled on the idea for glowing-chest soulmates, I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head for Tony.
> 
> This was supposed to be short one shot, but things got a little out of hand and I tried to fix the entire MCU. Whoops? 
> 
> Finally, as always, feel free to get in touch with me by email (lelantusfics@gmail.com) and come say hi on tumblr at [lelantusposts](https://lelantusposts.tumblr.com)! Thanks for reading!
> 
> *Betaed by the amazing ishipallthings!! Her help has been invaluable <3*

Everyone knew what happened when soulmates touched each other. Whether it was hands clasping together, fingers brushing across a jaw, or lips meeting in a kiss - it didn’t matter. Any skin-to-skin contact and chests started glowing with soft, white-blue light. Soul-light, it was called. The light shone from the center of the chest. Well, if you wanted to be completely accurate, the light shone from a little to the left of the center of the chest. From directly over the heart, if you could fucking believe it.

Soulmates touched and their chests glowed for each other and everyone lived happily ever after.

Tony honestly thought it was a lot of bullshit.

For every happy soulmate story, there were two that ended in tragedy. For every Buttercup and Westley there was a Paris and Helen or a Romeo and Juliet. Literature and history were filled with countless stories where a touch was all it took to start wars and tear families apart. Lives lost, cities razed, spirits broken all for the chance, the possibility that all you needed to be happy was one other person. Two chests glowed and what did it matter if Rome burned?

The scientist in him hated the concept of soulmates. Tony raged against the idea that the entire course of his life might change just because of a random biological response to another person - a biological response that nobody fucking understood anyway.

Tony didn’t need a soulmate.

Having a soulmate did not guarantee happiness; Tony’s own parents were proof enough of that.

Except-

Except… a small, dark, hidden, silenced part of Tony yearned for a soulmate with a fierceness that had the power to ruin him. Because it was intoxicating, the thought of having someone that would move heaven and hell to be with you and damn the consequences. To be loved that way and with such fervor would be addicting and Tony craved it desperately and in secret. And realistically, Tony knew his only hope for that kind of love was his soulmate, because who else would bother looking at Tony and seeing something of value?

Tony grew up and his chest stayed dim.

Tony met Rhodey and Pepper and had minutes, hours, days where he hoped that one of them might be more to him (might be _it_ ) but no, his chest stayed dim. His chest stayed dim and a tiny part of him was thankful because didn’t Rhodey and Pepper deserve better?

Tony lost his parents and suddenly, the lack of light in his chest seemed all the more glaring. His chest stayed dim and it felt like a condemnation.

Tony built the best weapons in the world, attended lavish parties, and had one night stands with beautiful men and women and it helped take his mind off the fact that after 40 years, his chest was still empty and that every day, absolution slipped further and further out of his grasp.

\-------

Tony woke up in a cave in Afghanistan with a hole in his chest and wires coming out of it and felt his blood run cold, dread curling heavy and low in his stomach.

Science still hadn’t worked out many of the finer details of how soulmates or soul-lights worked, but what was known was this: soul-lights operated on a positive feedback loop. That for one person’s soul-light to shine, their soulmate’s soul-light also had to glow. The lights bolstered each other and grew brighter the longer soulmates touched. The connection between two soul-lights was supposedly “a beautiful metaphor for love and for the soulmate bond,” but what it actually meant was if one person’s soul-light wasn’t visible, their soulmate’s chest wouldn’t glow even when they touched.

Soul-lights could be temporarily blocked (e.g. completely obscured underneath too many layers of clothing) and occasionally, rarely, they could be permanently extinguished. Sometimes burn victims that had extensive skin grafts on their chests lost their soul-lights.

If you lost your soul-light before you found your soulmate, it meant that you never would find them. Because even if you met and touched them, your soulmate’s soul-light would never appear since it had no responding soul-light to feed off of. If you lost your soul-light and didn’t already have a soulmate, you were shit out of luck.

So Tony looked at the thing sitting in his chest, keeping him alive, and instinctively understood what it meant.

He’d lost his ability to produce a soul-light.

He would never find his soulmate.

He was shit out of luck.

Tony tried processing it. He tried thinking rationally about the loss of something he never had and never truly expected to have, but the walls of cave started closing in on him and he choked on the violent nausea welling up inside of him. Tony had to consciously remind himself to keep breathing. He closed his eyes and fought against the part of him that wanted to give up now that he had lost all hope.

Because that was what losing his soul-light meant.

Tony’s soulmate was gone and with them went all Tony’s naive dreams of completion and redemption.

Tony couldn’t believe that despite being on the verge of death and held hostage by terrorists, he was more upset about the loss of his fucking soul-light. Typical.

\-------

The arc reactor he built in the cave glowed the same shade of light as a soul-light and Tony could barely look at it without his stomach roiling. It was always there, always glowing - a cruel, taunting reminder of what Tony had lost.

\-------

“You got a family?” Tony asked Yinsin.

“Yes, and I will see them when I leave here. And you, Stark?”

“No. And no soulm- no.”

Yinsen looked thoughtfully at Tony’s chest, “So you’re a man who has everything…. and nothing.” He paused and gestured to the arc reactor. “I am sorry, if I had known I perhaps could have-”

Tony cut him off, “It’s fine. I don’t think it would have mattered either way.”

\-------

Yinsen laid a trembling hand on the armor, over the glowing arc reactor, “Don’t waste it… don’t waste your life Stark.”

\-------

Tony came home with metal in his chest instead of a working heart and stopped building weapons.

Tony built a new arc reactor and a new set of armor.

Tony became Iron Man.

And throughout it all, Tony’s chest glowed because when he rebuilt the arc reactor, he made sure to keep the light - the soft bluish-white light just like that of a soul-light. These days, Tony wore it proudly. The arc reactor was a love letter to the one thing in his life that still had any meaning - his tech, the armor. Tony didn’t have a soulmate. He would never have a soulmate. But he did have Iron Man. Iron Man was everything Tony Stark wasn’t (good, selfless, a hero) and Iron Man deserved to have a soul-light even if Tony Stark didn’t.

The public found it by turns obscene, fascinating, and liberating. Editorials, blog posts, TV reporters, and religious figures across the country and the world all weighed in, either decrying the arc reactor as a perversion of the purity and sanctity of soul-lights or praising it as a bold, much needed statement on the irrelevancy of soulmates.

For better or worse, soulmate or no, Tony’s chest would never be dim again. Tony took all his frivolous, juvenile, hopeless dreams of a soulmate and locked them up behind tall walls deep inside of himself.

\-------

Tony didn’t say anything and Pepper still understood. “Proof that Tony Stark has a Heart,” read the case containing the first arc reactor.  On his better days, Tony looked at it and saw confirmation that he would be okay without his soulmate. And on his worst days, well, Tony didn’t look at it at all and wore something heavy and thick enough to obscure the light in his chest.

\-------

Some nights, Tony would jerk awake, his heart racing and half-remembered dreams of heat and sand and constant pain lingering in his mind. He would lay awake in his big, empty bed and gradually his breathing would even out and his heart would slow. At night, Tony’s room was always bathed in the blue glow from the arc reactor and Tony clung to it, let himself be soothed by it. The arc reactor was many things - a symbol, a middle-finger to the world, a benediction, a curse, Iron Man - but it was ultimately irrefutable proof that Tony had survived.

And so the light would lull Tony back to sleep. It was comfort and torment at the same time and both feelings mixed and twined until Tony could barely tell where one began and the other ended.

\-------

When Obadiah ripped the arc reactor from his chest it seemed like the harshest sort of irony. Tony was literally going to die because his chest was empty and dim.

\-------

“I am Iron Man.”

Cue more hysterical articles, editorials, and blog posts.

\-------

The day Tony realized the arc reactor - his own, handmade soul-light - was poisoning him he didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. He settled on getting very, very drunk.

Tony found a way to fix it of course. After all, his life depended on it; depended on keeping his chest lit.

\-------

Soulmate Dysfunction Disorder they called it - the inability, for some reason or another, to find your soulmate. These days, SDD’s position as a diagnosable medical condition was heavily controversial. Critics pointed out numerous examples of people that had lived complete, successful lives supposedly without ever meeting their soulmate (the Nikola Teslas or Florence Nightingales of the world) and entire new progressive movements were dedicated towards phasing out the traditional view of soulmates as perfect romantic partners.

So these days, for a lot of people, not being able to find your soulmate wouldn’t be a problem. But for many more - for most of the rest of the world, actually - it was. And so SDD remained right there in the DSM-5 as proof that Tony was broken.

Tony read SHIELD’s report on him; the report that “disqualified” Tony Stark and subsequently Iron Man from the Avengers Initiative. “Textbook narcissism” - was it narcissism if you were objectively smarter than everyone else? But fine, okay, whatever. “Prone to self-destructive tendencies” - wasn’t everyone? And in Tony’s defense, he had been dying during most of that self-destruction. “Volatile” - sure. “Unable to work with others” - more like unable to tolerate stupidity, but not not true. And then there, tacked on to the end of the laundry list of deficiencies: “Permanently incapable of forming a soul-bond” - and, well, Tony didn’t have a quippy response for that.

See? Broken.

\-------

Then SHIELD lost an ominously glowing cube to an alien demigod and suddenly Tony wasn’t quite as unqualified for the Avenger’s Initiative anymore.

\-------

Steve Rogers was cold, stubborn, and infuriating. He was also quite possibly the most beautiful person Tony had seen in real life. But maybe worst of all, Rogers was a good man. He was everything Howard had said he was ( _damn_ Tony hated it when his father was right). Steve Rogers: the living legend that lived up to the legend. And it was awful and horrible because Tony found him captivating. Steve Rogers was a puzzle Tony wanted to solve. And so Tony pushed and prodded because that was what he did. Tony applied force at people’s pressure points until they snapped because it was the only way to know who someone was; the only way to see what people hid behind their masks.

Tony was good at it, at pushing people. And Rogers, well Rogers responded beautifully. Very few people had the nerve to go head to head with Tony - the prerogative of being smarter, richer, and better looking than everyone else - but Rogers pushed right back with a dangerous glint in his eye that Tony found fascinating. Tony thought he could get used to this, to having Rogers’ knife-sharp attention and all his steely determination focused exclusively on him.

But once they were done, after they had both said their piece, Rogers’ words still echoed uncomfortably in Tony’s head - “ _Stop pretending to be a hero._ ” And Tony definitely hadn’t missed the way Rogers’ gaze had repeatedly flickered to his chest - to the light of the arc reactor - during their argument, a troubled frown distorting perfect features. It didn’t bode well for the future, but at the moment, no matter how much he wanted to, Tony didn’t have time to analyze Rogers any further. They had the small matter of an alien invasion to deal with.

\-------

A split second of eye contact and Tony knew exactly what Rogers was thinking. Tony’s bright repulsor blast arced perfectly off of Rogers’ shield.

Apparently, in battle, they worked together seamlessly. Of fucking course they did.

Get through a conversation without yelling at each other? Not a chance. But efficiently fight off an invading alien horde? Easy.

Seeing Rogers fight was like watching poetry in motion. Although, Tony wasn’t particularly partial to poetry so maybe he should compare Rogers to a flawless line of intricate code or the delicately crisscrossing lines of one of Tony’s schematic. _Or maybe a dancer_ , Tony mused as he blasted an incoming Chitauri vessel and sent it spiraling to the ground.

Whatever hackneyed metaphors Tony’s brain conjured up, it didn’t matter. Rogers was magnetic and Tony couldn’t have looked away from him if he had tried

Rogers barked an order over the comms and his natural, firm tone of command sent a flicker of heat racing down Tony’s spine in what had to be the most inappropriately and inconveniently timed moment of attraction in the history of the world.

\-------

And then came the nuke and the portal and the bone-deep knowledge that this time, there was no clever solution - no way for Tony to think, talk, invent, or fight his way out of this problem.

“Stark, you know that’s a one way trip.”

Tony knew. Tony called Pepper and when JARVIS couldn’t reach her, Tony tried not to think about his soulmate. He tried not to wonder what he could have done differently. He tried not to regret. Tony closed his eyes.

\-------

Tony jolted back to consciousness. Fuck. Apparently, he was alive. He knew he was alive because everything hurt too much for him to be dead.

Tony opened his eyes and Rogers - _Steve_ \- smiled at him, sweet and relieved.

“Please tell me nobody kissed me.”

_But if Steve was offering… Wait, no. Fuck, how hard did I hit my head?_

“We won,” Steve said.

Tony said something in response - was he rambling about shawarma? Whatever. Tony wasn’t really paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth. Instead, his entire being was focused on that smile. It was the first time Tony had seen Steve smile. It was fucking incredible. Tony had a moment of complete and utter insanity where he thought he might just be willing to fly a second nuke into cold, dead vacuum of space if it meant seeing Steve look at him like that again.

That was also the moment Tony thought he might just be screwed.

\-------

They shook hands, Steve’s grip warm and steady and Tony felt a frisson of something (recognition? heat, want, need ?) spark deep and low within him. And so, even though it was the last thing he wanted (Tony wanted to keep touching Steve, to forcibly haul him back to his tower and keep him there until Tony _understood_ ), Tony plastered on a smile he didn’t mean, let Steve’s hand fall from his own, and said his goodbyes.

\-------

The Avengers fractured. Thor to Asgard, Romanoff and Barton back to SHIELD, Bruce to parts unknown (but with a promise to come back for his new lab in Stark Tower), and Steve on the most depressing cross-country road trip possibly anyone had ever taken.

And Tony? Well, Tony carried on doing typical billionaire genius philanthropist things as he struggled to rebuild - the city, his tower, himself.  

Something strange had happened during the battle. Tony thought something might have cracked inside of him. It felt like a dam had burst and during quiet moments, when Tony’s mind wandered, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from picturing the curve of Steve Rogers’ lips and a future that wasn’t his to want.

And if late at night, when Tony lay awake, unable to sleep because of the dark, desolate visions of space that had replaced his nightmares of Afghanistan, he thought of Steve - of where he was, of what he might be doing, if he would pick up his phone if Tony called - then it was nobody’s business but his.

\-------

No amount of digging through classified SHIELD files could tell Tony the one thing he desperately wanted - no, needed - to know: who was Steve Rogers’ soulmate? He had to have one (Peggy? Barnes?) but the history books had been surprisingly silent on the subject of who Captain America’s soulmate was. And even more astonishing, Howard had never said anything about Steve having one. But he _had_ to have had one; a soulmate that was. Steve - Captain America - was Perfect (with a capital P) and Perfect meant having a soulmate.

It frustrated Tony to no end, this simple but seemingly unanswerable question. And even more exasperatingly, Tony couldn’t figure out why he was fixated on it. After all, what did Captain America’s soulmate have to do with him?

\-------

A while later it occurred to Tony that if Steve had had a soulmate, then it meant he had also lost a soulmate. _What’s worse_ , Tony wondered, _having them and losing them, or never getting the chance to have them at all_?

 _But if Steve had lost his soulmate, then maybe he wouldn’t mind-_ No. Tony shut down that train of thought quick. In no world would Captain America would see Tony as anything other than a teammate and maybe, if Tony didn’t manage to fuck it up, a friend.

 


	2. Chapter Two

About two months after the battle of New York, Tony ran into Steve deep within the bowels of SHIELD’s New York complex - and Tony literally meant ran into. Tony had been turning a corner, his gaze focused on a holograph schematic that hovered above his StarkPad (he still “consulted” for SHIELD, both in and out of the Iron Man armor), when suddenly he collided with what felt like a warm wall.

Tony stumbled backwards and a hand shot out to grip his elbow. A fleeting sensation of warmth as Tony was steadied and then the hand withdrew.

Tony looked up into cool blue eyes - eyes that Tony hadn’t seen for long weeks. “You’re back,” Tony said. His mouth unconsciously curled into a small smile and something like excitement coursed through him, speeding up the beat of his heart.

“Mr. Stark,” Steve said and his voice was as cold as his eyes.

Tony felt his real smile falter and fade as he replaced it with his trademark camera-ready grin. Tony arched a brow. “How was the road trip, Captain? You get nice and reacquainted with the homeland? You know, really appreciate the curving hills and fertile earth, et cetera. I’ve never been one for the middle of the country, but I suppose I could be convinced…”

Steve’s gaze darted to Tony’s chest and then back up again in a motion so quick that Tony would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching Steve as intently as he was. 

Then Steve took a step back. “It was fine,” he eventually replied and before Tony could find something (anything) to say to keep the conversation going, Steve turned on his heel and briskly walked away. Had it been anyone else, Tony might have even categorized what Steve was doing as fleeing.

Tony stayed where he was, watching Steve's retreating back. He was inexplicably crestfallen. Tony had thought- well, it didn’t matter what Tony had thought because clearly the Steve that had come back from his cross-country jaunt wasn’t the Steve that had smiled at him and shaken his hand after the battle of New York. No. This was the Steve from the helicarrier (“ _ Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you? _ ”) - uncompromising, unbending, and utterly dismissive of everything Tony was. And this time, there was no scepter to blame for Steve’s words. It hurt. It was probably good that Tony was used to pain.

\-------

Things between him and Steve didn’t get much better and for once, Tony knew it wasn’t entirely his fault.

\-------

Steve stormed into one of the SHIELD medical wards, still in full tactical gear and with streaks of soot and dirt decorating his arched cheekbones. His eyes scanned the room and as soon as they located Tony seated on of the medical beds with a SHIELD nurse finishing wrapping a dressing around his torso, Steve stalked forward, his mouth pressed into a thin line of displeasure. Tony had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“What were you thinking?” Steve ground out in a voice that sound like breaking glass.

“Honey, if we’re going to fight, let’s not do it in front of the kids,” Tony drawled, waving a lazy hand around at the few SHIELD medical personnel still in the room. Steve spun around and his steely glare landed on the nearest nurse, who squeaked, dropped the tray she was holding, and beat a hasty retreat out of the room with the rest of staff quickly following. Tony did roll his eyes at that.

“You’re a real people person aren’t you, Cap?”

“Don’t. Just don’t, Stark. I’m going to ask again, what the hell were you thinking?”

Tony’s vision flashed red, but he made sure to keep his expression of patronizing amusement firmly in place because he liked how much it pissed Steve off. “Well Spangles, I was thinking that you had your head too far up your ass to see that I was right there and-”

“I told you to wait for Romanoff! You almost- and worse, you put those people’s lives in jeopardy with your stunt. People that were depending on us. It was reckless and you need to  _ listen  _ to my-”

“Fuck you, Cap! I knew exactly what I was doing. I  _ told  _ you I had to go in right then, if I had waited any longer, then someone definitely would have died. And just because Coulson thought it was a good idea to make a geriatric ice cube our team leader, it doesn’t actually make you God. So you can take your righteous, self-important bullshit and go fuck yourself.”

Tony squared off against Steve and his blood burned. He reveled in it. Some days, Tony still had trouble being anything but numb, but there was something about Steve that never failed to make Tony  _ feel _ .

Somewhere in the middle of his tirade, Tony had gotten off of the hospital bed in favor of standing nose to nose with Steve, their bodies so close that Tony could feel the heat that radiated off of Steve and see the flecks of green in those brilliant blue eyes. The negligible space between them seemed to ripple and crackle like it always did when they were this close; like an electrical circuit that yearned to be closed. Part of Tony wanted to close it,  _ to touch _ \- 

Steve stared back, his jaw clenched so tight Tony was surprised something hadn’t shattered. He didn’t say anything.

“You have to start trusting me.” The words fell out of Tony’s mouth before he could stop them, but the moment he said it, he knew it was what he wanted from Steve. What he craved.

But instead of answering, Steve once again stepped back from him and Tony struggled to keep his dismay hidden.

Tony had seen Steve face down a charging alien horde with no hesitation, his shoulders squared and shield up. So what was it about Tony that always made Steve run?

Steve moved, clearly about to leave (again) and Tony reached out to stop him. He wanted Steve to stay; he wanted to make Steve stay and face this. But Tony’s bruised ribs protested the motion and he couldn’t stifle a small gasp as pain lanced through his side. Steve took another step back, but this one was hurried and clumsy. His wide eyes danced over Tony and took in the dressing that covered most of Tony’s torso, the scrapes on Tony’s face, the bruising that decorated most of Tony’s right arm, and something flashed in them. He then turned and bolted.

Tony stared after him, his lips parted in shock. Because for a moment there, Tony thought he had seen  _ fear  _ in Steve’s eyes _.  _ And what the fuck did Captain America have to be scared of?

\-------

In his defense, Tony had tried. He had tried listening to Steve, he had tried meekly following orders, and had tried meeting Steve in the middle. Tony had wanted to make it (to make  _ them _ ) work, which in itself was a miracle because Tony  _ didn’t do that _ . Tony never compromised and he never bent for other people, but he had been willing to try and do both for Steve. 

It hadn’t made a difference.

Tony didn’t even know why he had bothered. Clearly, Steve was fine with them constantly snapping at each other’s throats.

Maybe the worst part of the whole thing was that continued exposure to Steve merely cemented what Tony already knew: Steve was good, noble, and kind - except when it came to Tony. 

Of fucking course.

Tony should have seen it coming. Obviously he wouldn’t be good enough for Captain America. Growing up, Howard had drilled it into Tony’s head; how brave, honorable, noble, and good Steve was and how deficient Tony was in comparison. Howard had been a lot of things (cold, harsh, always disappointed), but he had rarely been wrong and clearly he hadn’t been wrong about this.

Tony would never measure up in Steve’s eyes. And it stung because for a moment, Tony had thought Steve might be able see past his masks. 

People rarely looked past the surface when it came to Tony. They saw what he wanted them to see. But Steve had never hesitated to call Tony on his bullshit and Tony had started to hope that it  _ meant  _ something. That maybe when Steve looked at Tony he actually saw him; not his suit, not his armor, not his arc reactor - but  _ him. _ It was a ridiculous, fanciful hope and Tony despised himself for having it.

Maybe it was better this way. At least when Steve was yelling at him he wasn’t staring at Tony’s chest, his brow furrowed and pink lips pursed in disapproval.

\-------

Tony knew Steve probably had some fucked up ideas about soulmates since ( _ shockingly _ ) the 1940s had some fucked up ideas about soulmates.

Steve would have grown up in a world where your soulmate was your everything; your only socially acceptable chance for sex, romance, love, and family. Back then, both sex before marriage and divorce were frowned upon, so you waited for your soulmate, married them right after meeting, and then were expected live happily ever after. Well, that was what was expected as long as your soulmate was the right kind of person - someone of the same race, the same social class, and the opposite sex.

Surprising no one, the concept of soulmates hadn’t done (and didn’t do) much stop prejudice and hate.

In the not so distant past, if your soulmate turned out to be someone “unsuitable,” then it was your fault. The theory was that you must have done something to be cursed with a soulmate that was wrong _. _ You must have done something horrible, something horrible enough to corrupt your soul and twist the soul-bond. You were the problem. 

Fun times, the 1940s.

And if you couldn’t find your soulmate? Well, according to 40’s wisdom, legend, and religion, the only people that couldn’t find their soulmates were those that had lost their souls.

Was that what Steve saw when he looked at Tony? Someone without a soul?

\-------

Tony took a sip of his drink and the alcohol burned as it slid down his throat.

Fuck Steve Rogers for being the one fucking puzzle, problem, equation that Tony couldn’t fucking solve.

Tony took another sip and another.

Tony poured himself another glass.

\-------

Tony lounged against the wall outside SHIELD’s main gym, waiting for Natasha. 

(Natasha who had come to Tony after the battle of New York and apologized for “most of” what she had written in his SHIELD personality assessment. Natasha who had stuck around long enough for them to form something Tony might even be compelled to admit was a friendship.) 

Natasha was inside sparring with Clint and once they were finished, she and Tony had plans. In exchange for Tony buying her lunch at some fabulous and expensive restaurant, Natasha filled him on more SHIELD gossip than he could ever hope to remember. It was a weekly ritual of theirs that Clint usually ended up inviting himself to.

Tony was flicking through emails on his phone when the door to the gym opened. Tony glanced up in time to see Steve walk out.

Wearing threadbare sweatpants and an impossibly tight white-shirt that clung to every muscle (seriously, Steve was better off not wearing a shirt at all if this was what he was attempting to pass off as clothing), Steve was sweaty and flushed, clearly just finished with a workout. 

Tony’s breath hitched and he felt a surge of heat tug sharply at his stomach. 

Tony wanted Steve and hated himself for it. Because sure, Tony was a masochist, but Jesus Christ, there was being a masochist and then there was just pointless suffering. And lusting after Steve fucking Rogers definitely fell into the latter category. Wanting Steve was like wanting the sun and Tony had already been burned enough in his life, thank you very much.

Steve’s gazed landed on Tony where he was by the door and his eyes widened for a moment. “Stark,” he greeted with a small dip of his head.

“Cap.”

“You actually here to work out?” Steve asked, sounding offensively incredulous and Tony’s smile sharpened.

“Me? Workout? Wouldn’t want wrinkle my suit, now would I? It’s bespoke.”

Roger’s heavy gaze raked over him from head to toe and Tony swore he could almost feel it like a physical touch. But then Steve abruptly looked away and scoffed, “Of course.”

Tony pushed himself off of the wall and stepped forward, right into Steve's space and Steve…  _ let _ him. “‘Of course?’” he asked, voice low and dangerous and Steve’s gaze snapped back to his.

“Of course your suit is bespoke. Of course you’re not here to work out. Of course this is all still a big joke to-”

“Tony?” Natasha’s voice cut Steve off mid-sentence and he jerked, taking a startled step back from Tony. Steve licked his lips and Tony’s eyes followed the motion-

“Tony, are you ready to go?” Natasha asked again and Tony blinked. He tore his eyes away from Steve and focused on Natasha and Clint, who had apparently finished sparring and who had also been standing outside the gym for god knows how long.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Tony said. With some effort, he recovered his grin and aimed it at Natasha and Clint. “You crashing my and Nat’s date again, Legolas?”

Natasha rolled her eyes while Clint sniggered and Tony felt his smile relax into something softer and more genuine. He walked over to Natasha and Clint, fully prepared to stop thinking about Steve Rogers for as long as possible (some days, Tony could go a whole impressive entire hour) when Natasha spoke.

“Steve? Do you want to join us? We’re just going out to lunch.”

Tony stiffened in fear-anticipation-hope?

And then, after a beat of tense silence, “No, thank you.”

Tony spun around only to see Steve's back as he walked in the opposite direction down the corridor.

“Does he ever leave?” Tony asked absentmindedly, once more watching Steve's retreating figure. He wondered if it would always be like this, Tony watching as Steve walked away.

Clint snorted, “For missions, maybe. Otherwise it’s eat, workout for hours, sleep, and repeat. He’s like a machine, it’s fucking unreal. Now come on Stark, I’m ready to be wined and dined.”

Tony let himself be tugged away, out of the bowels of SHIELD and into the bright afternoon sunlight even though something felt…  _ off _ . Tony couldn’t pinpoint why (because he definitely didn’t want to spend lunch with Steve scowling at him from across the table as they ate), but it felt  _ wrong  _ leaving Steve behind.

\-------

One more mission where Tony blatantly ignored Steve's orders. One more week where Steve blatantly ignored Tony except to yell at him in the field. Tension thrummed thick and heavy between them and Tony was done waiting for it to break.

\-------

Stretched out over the sparring mats in SHIELD’s gym, Tony slowly warmed up his muscles as his eyes stayed firmly fixed on the door.

The gym was empty and would remain so, cleared and being kept clear of SHIELD personnel by Natasha as a favor to Tony. The gym was empty and Tony was here because Natasha had reliably informed him that every day at around this time- 

_ Yes, fucking finally _ . 

The door swung open and Steve walked in. Immediately, Steve's gaze found Tony and he paused, head tilted. He then shook his head minutely and made his way over to the bag hanging from the ceiling, which,  _ no _ . No matter how nice the view was (and it was  _ nice _ ), Tony was not here to watch Steve beat the shit out of a heavy bag.

“Hey, Stars-and-stripes, come spar with me,” Tony called out.

Head bowed, Steve paused briefly in the wrapping of his hands before continuing. As soon as he was done, he walked over to the mats where Tony sat sprawled. Tony tilted his head up and met those bright blue eyes.

“Why?” Steve asked, his expression impassive and arms crossed. His entire demeanor screamed “ _ stay away and don’t touch _ .” 

But of course, Tony wanted to touch. Tony wanted get close and push.

Tony grinned, “Because you’re always yelling at me about tactics. Because it’ll be fun. Because - and you can finally admit it - you’ve kind of wanted an excuse to punch me since our first conversation.” Tony was done with this fucking impasse between them. He was done being ignored and pushed aside. And most of all, he was done letting Steve get away with it. 

But despite Tony’s list of  _ excellent _ reasons for why they should spar, Steve still didn’t look convinced. Steve sent a longing glance at the heavy bags and Tony smirked. 

“Scared?” He asked.

Steve gaze snapped back to Tony and he huffed, “Why would I be scared?”

“No reason at all,” Tony said breezily. “So sparring with me shouldn’t be a problem.”

Steve eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

Tony gave Steve his most guileless smile. And Tony must have gotten better at doing guileless since the last time he had tried, because after a moment Steve jerked his head in grudging assent.

Tony bounced to his feet, “Fantastic!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that has subscribed, bookmarked, and left kudos! And a special thank you to everyone that has taken the time to comment! Coming next week: Steve and Tony spar and Steve's soulmate situation is revealed!


	3. Chapter Three

The first few blows they traded were cautious and exploratory. Tony neatly blocked a punch before ducking out of the way of a kick and saw surprise flash across Steve's face. Tony smiled.

Then they started really moving. The strikes came quicker and with more force, but Tony could tell Steve was still pulling his hits and it pissed Tony off. Tony darted forward. A hook to the face that Steve blocked followed by a quick, hard jab to the side that actually landed, and Steve let out a little “oof.” Steve shot him a brief look of mingled shock and grudging respect.

Tony probably should have realized earlier that the path towards earning Steve's regard involved trying to punch him in the face.

Next, a high kick that Steve caught and pushed back against and Tony rolled backwards before he sprung up again. Steve didn’t follow and Tony moved forward again. A jab, a kick, an attempted throw and Steve blocked or avoided them all, swaying backwards and still on the defensive.

Tony’s heart beat a quick, staccato rhythm and the only sounds in the empty the gym were thuds of impact when a blow connected and the quick, jagged breaths both of them were taking.

Tony swung and Steve caught the blow. His bare fingers wrapped around Tony’s forearm and sent a jolt of awareness through him before Tony ripped his arm out of Steve’s grip. Tony spun out with kick and Steve knocked his leg aside, almost sending Tony off balance as he came up with an uppercut.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins and Tony was aware of every sinuous inch of Steve’s body as they moved together in dance of traded hits.

And then there it was. A slight misstep and the opening (the opening Steve was giving him because apparently his favorite hobby was underestimating Tony) Tony had been looking for appeared. Tony moved. He swept Steve's feet out from underneath him and followed him down. A moment later, he sat astride Steve’s hips and had Steve pinned to the mat. Triumph and bone-deep satisfaction roared through him and okay, this wasn’t quite what Tony had imagined when he thought about getting Steve underneath him, but it was _pretty damn good_.

Steve stared up at him, eyes wide and astonished.

Tony grinned down at him and answered the unspoken question, “I’m scrappy.”

Steve eyes narrowed. “You’re trained,” he accused and Tony rolled his eyes.

“Obviously I’m trained. Did you think the Ten Rings were the first people to try and kidnap me? And did you think that I decided to build and wear the Iron Man armor without any sort of martial arts or combat training?”

Steve's subtle flinch spoke for itself.

“Oh my god, you did think that. How adorable,” Tony cooed, enjoying the embarrassed flush that was working its way down that sculpted jawline.

Steve _growled_ (and fuck, Tony shouldn’t find that as hot as he did) and bucked up, dislodging Tony’s grip on his arms and rolling them so Tony was now trapped beneath him.

Tony flexed his wrists and Steve grip tightened around them. It sent a shiver racing down Tony’s spine. He was well and truly pinned. Tony grinned at Steve and batted his eyes. “Wow. I usually prefer to have someone buy me dinner first before letting them have their way with me,” Tony drawled as he smoothly rolled his hips against Steve's in a tease disguised as a half-hearted effort to dislodge him, “but I guess I could make an exception for you, baby.”

Steve lurched up and scrambled backwards as if burned. Tony laughed and got back to his feet, absentmindedly rubbing one of his wrists. Tony thought he could still feel the burn of Steve's fingers where they had held him down.

Steve glared at him. “Again,” he commanded, voice low and rough.

“Alright Mr. United States, keep your pants on. Let me just-” Tony felt a drop of sweat roll down his back and he stripped out of the dark t-shirt he wore, leaving him in yoga pants and a thin white tank top through which the glow of the arc reactor was eminently visible.

Steve’s gaze dropped to his chest.

Jackpot.

Then Tony took off the tank top too, leaving his chest bare.

Even though it was exactly what he had planned to do, Tony still had to suppress the impulse to lay a hand over the arc reactor and block it from Steve's implacable gaze.

It didn’t matter how long ago Afghanistan had been, Tony still didn’t feel comfortable when people saw his chest. It made him feel raw and exposed; like anyone who saw the arc reactor in all its dubious glory would be able to guess the twisted and pathetic dreams Tony had once had of finding a soulmate.

And then of course there was the rough scarring that circled the edge of the reactor’s housing. The scarring which no one should have to see; which no one but Pepper and Rhodey had seen.

But the longer Steve stared, clearly and blatantly discomforted by the arc reactor, the more Tony started enjoying it - perversely savoring the way it put Steve on edge.

“Ready?” Tony asked, brows arched. Steve looked back up and met his eyes. Steve’s gaze had something hard and almost angry in it and Tony smiled, satisfied.

Steve nodded and moved forward and so did Tony. A cuff, a kick. Tony’s blood roared in his ears and then Steve moved behind Tony to grab him in a hold. A stomp on Steve’s foot, an elbow thrown back in his face and Tony spun free and it was _still too easy._

They stood at opposite ends of the mat and Tony was sick of it. He stalked forward, right into Steve’s space, and hissed, “Stop fucking coddling me. Fight back. _Really_ fight back. You know you want to.”

Steve's eyes tracked down to the arc reactor once more, blue light reflected in blue eyes, and Tony smirked. “What? Don’t tell me you’re afraid to hit a guy with a pacemaker?”

“It’s not-” Steve broke off. He looked away, his jaw clenched and lips thin.

A beat of silence. Tony curled his hand into a fist. “It’s not what?” Tony asked and threw the punch. Steve had been looking to the side and clearly hadn’t been expecting a strike. He moved, but he didn’t move fast enough. Tony’s fist connected and Steve's head snapped to the side.

“It’s not what?” Tony repeated.

Steve's looked back at Tony as he brushed fingers across his reddened cheek. Another beat of silence and then Steve lunged forward, attacking in earnest for the first time since they had started sparring.

A punch, a hit, a jab, a push. Steve pressed forward and Tony moved back. He managed to block the blows Steve was raining down on him, but only barely.

Tony was strong, fast, and trained. He could more than hold his own in hand-to-hand combat. He was good. But he wasn’t angry, no-longer-restraining-himself, super-soldier good, and this time it was Tony that moved on the defensive.

Steve attempted to grab Tony into another hold, but he slipped out of it at the last moment and danced away, putting much needed space between them.

Steve stood still, just a few feet away, his chest heaving and his eyes fever-bright.

Tony wiped away the sweat on his brow with the back of his hand. “It’s not what?” he asked in between ragged breaths. _Push; don’t let it go._

“How can you-” Steve cut off with a frustrated growl. “How can you flaunt it like that? You've lost your other half and instead of mourning you've built a callous monument celebrating it.”

The two sentences sent Tony reeling.

Tony had guessed Steve’s problem was something like that, but he had needed confirmation. He had needed to hear Steve say it. So Tony had expected it, but it still hurt, knowing that in spite of everything they had been through together, Steve still believed the same bullshit as the rest of the world: that what had happened to Tony and how he “flaunted” the loss merely confirmed that he wasn’t worthy of a soulmate in the first place.

( _No soulmate? You must have done something horrible, something horrible enough to corrupt your soul and twist the soul-bond. You were the problem._ )

And sure, they might be true (whoever Tony’s soulmate should have been was probably better off without him), but Steve's words still hurt worse than any punch so of course Tony punched back.

Literally.

A blocked hit, a deflected kick, a caught jab and then Tony pressed in close. _Push_.

“Who was it then? Peg- Carter? Barnes?” he asked with a feigned nonchalance, as Steve broke out of his hold and whirled away, because the question had been burning inside of him for _months_ and he was finally close to getting his answer.

“What?”

Tony ducked to the side narrowly avoiding a punch and tsked. “Your soulmate, your destined ‘other half,’ who was it?” he drawled. He watched Steve's expression as it darkened and twisted with fury and grief.

“It wasn't- Neither. It wasn't either of them. Whoever it was supposed to be, I didn't find them and now I never will,” Rogers spat out and Tony froze, taken aback.

Was that what all this was about? _Steve didn’t have a soulmate? How-_ Steve's leg hooked around his and Tony found himself on the receiving end of a hard shove to the chest. And Tony, thoroughly distracted by Steve's little revelation, was utterly unprepared for it.

Tony hit the ground. Hard.

The impact knocked the breath out of his lungs and made his ears ring. Tony tasted the bright copper of blood on his tongue and he could feel ache in his chest where without a doubt a nice bruise was beginning to bloom. But none of that mattered because Tony finally had the last piece of his puzzle.

Steve didn’t have a soulmate. How was it even possible? It shouldn’t be possible. This entire time, Tony had been sure Steve was mourning the loss of a soulmate. But if Steve hadn’t found his soulmate before he became a Capsicle, and now truly believed he had lost his chance to find them ( _a time and a world where your soulmate was your everything_ ), then it explained a lot.

It maybe even explained more than if Steve had found his soulmate and then lost them.

Steve's distance, his reservations about modern life, the way he hid himself away inside SHIELD, his reckless determination to throw himself into forefront of every fight; it all could be attributed to the kind of hopelessness that came with knowing that no matter what, you were going to live alone and die alone without ever knowing what it felt like to be loved wholly and completely in the way supposedly only a soulmate could love.  

It was the kind of profound hopelessness and disconnect that Tony was intimately acquainted with.

Tony closed his eyes briefly. _Fuck_. It would be hard to keep hating Steve if Tony started empathizing with him. And Tony had been having a _great_ time hating Steve ( _liar,_ whispered a voice in his head, _you always wanted to like him, but refused to let yourself since he didn’t like you_ ).

“Shit, Stark- _Tony_ \- are you okay? God, I’m sorry, I should never-”

Tony blinked his eyes open and Steve’s face swam into view. Steve leant over him, his brows drawn together and his voice worried. His hand hovered tentatively over Tony’s chest as if afraid to touch and risk hurting Tony further. Tony’s mind flashed back to the battle of New York - the last time he had opened his eyes only to find Steve above him - and he couldn’t help smiling.

Steve’s frown deepened. He probably thought Tony had head trauma. Again. And, to be fair, it was a distinct possibility.

“Are you alrigh-”

“Did you just call me Tony?” Tony asked, bemused. He sat up, rubbed his chest, and replayed Steve’s words in his head. “Actually, no, did you just _curse_?” he asked gleefully.

Steve flushed and Tony tracked the spread of the blush across Steve’s cheeks and down his neck. _Adorable._

“Pie,” Tony blurted out, distracted, his thoughts spinning as he tried to figure how exactly he was going to fix-

“What?” Steve asked.

Tony gingerly got to his feet and extended his hand out to Steve. “You like pie, right? Probably apple because you let SHIELD put you in the spangly outfit, so some of the Cap stereotypes have to be true and who _doesn’t_ like apple pie? Anyways, there’s this great little diner around the corner and we should go get pie. I mean, not that letting you beat me up isn’t fun for everyone, but _pie_.”

Steve gazed warily at Tony and was silent for a few long, tense seconds, but eventually he put his hand in Tony’s and let Tony help him to his feet.

“Yes?” Steve answered, still looking confused, and Tony grinned.

\-------

Tony shifted in his seat and the cracked vinyl of bench beneath him squeaked. The sound blended seamlessly with the steady, low-key bustle of the diner around them. Tony took a bite of pie. The pie was pecan and it was delicious. Tony chewed and took a sip of coffee and all the while his gaze stayed firmly fixed on Steve who sat opposite him, silent.

Steve was hunched over the table, his hands curled around a mug of coffee. His plate of apple pie sat untouched in front of him. His eyes were focused on the table, his brows drawn together and his mouth set in a small frown. He had barely spoken since they had left the SHIELD gym together.

Steve didn’t look angry anymore. He looked sad and lost and small and Tony fucking hated it. It was the first time Tony had seen Steve look anything less than Captain America - had seen him look unsure, vulnerable. Was this what Steve hid underneath his steely glares and prickly, “ _don’t touch me, don’t come close_ ” body language?

If Steve didn’t perk up and start yelling at Tony again soon, Tony was going start getting seriously worried. Tony’s eyes traced the defeated slump of Steve’s shoulders. _Shit, fuck, damn._ Fury would never let Tony near SHIELD and the Avengers again if he had somehow managed to break Captain America.

Except that was the problem, wasn’t it? This wasn’t Captain America. This was Steve Rogers. For maybe the first time since meeting him, Tony saw the man and not the shield.

And apparently, behind those pretty blue eyes and that perfect jawline, Steve was just as fucked up and broken as Tony.

Tony had definitely not seen that coming.

It probably wasn’t totally surprising Tony had a blind spot when it came to Captain America considering a) how much Howard had idolized and talked about Steve Rogers and b) the amount of Cap posters and memorabilia Tony had decorating his room while growing up, but it was still jarring to see Steve so firmly knocked off the untouchable pedestal he had long occupied in Tony’s mind.

But _damn_ , Tony should have seen it sooner. Steve’s trauma was obvious, when you took the time to look for it. How could Tony have missed it?

( _Stupid, blind, too caught up in your own goddamn issues to see what was right in front of you…_ )

But Tony had missed it and now here he was, with a Steve that he had shattered to pieces with a few mocking words sitting across from him. Of course, that was exactly what Tony had wanted, but apparently he wasn’t satisfied with pushing Steve to his breaking point. No, of course not. Apparently, now Tony also wanted to find a way to fix Steve. And apparently, Tony was trying to do it with pie.

Fuck. Steve was so fucking screwed.

Because Tony was good at people (at witty, charming banter) except when it mattered the most. When it mattered, Tony missed things and he missed big (Obadiah leaning over him and murmuring, “ _when I ordered the hit on you, I was worried that I was killing the golden goose”)._ And Steve mattered.

Tony wanted to go on the record, right now, and say that this was probably going to end badly.

Steve wasn’t an engine, a CPU, or one of Tony’s armors, and if Tony tried to fix him, he would probably end up breaking Steve even worse. But evidently he was going to try?  
( _Why? Why do I feel like I need to do this? What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I leave him alone?_ )

Because Tony had Pepper and Rhodey and JARVIS and Bruce (who had recently come back from god knows where and finally moved into the tower). Tony might also even have Natasha and Clint. But who did Steve have? Apparently no one.

\-------

“So, did SHIELD just wake you up, give you the spangly outfit, and then drop you off in Germany to fight alien demi-gods?”

As far as opening lines went, it could probably use some work, but it had the desired effect. Steve’s head jerked up. His gaze collided with Tony’s and he frowned even harder, but his conspicuous silence spoke for itself.

“ _Hol-ey_ shit, they did, didn’t then? They defrosted you and sent you on your merry way without anything - no explanations, no time to adjust, no _help_? That’s cold - pun very much intended - even for Fury.”

Steve stiffened, “I don’t need _help_.”

“Me neither,” Tony said blithely just to watch the incredulous raised brows that Steve (the filthy hypocrite) gave him.

“Look, Tony, I’m not sure what-” Steve started saying but Tony was done skirting around the issue. Also since they were in public, Tony was 95.7% sure bringing it up wouldn’t result in Steve trying to deck him. Again. So Tony went ahead and interrupted whatever polite, demure excuse Steve had clearly been about to use to get out of this conversation.

“I get that you’re fucked up about the whole ‘not having a soulmate’ thing, but what exactly does my arc reactor have to do with it?”

Steve was silent for a long time. He licked his lips and his fingers flexed around the coffee cup in his grip. “Don’t you care?” he eventually asked.

(" _Don’t you care that you lost them?”_ was the clear, unfinished question.)

Tony’s breath caught. He leaned back in his seat. “Does it matter?”

Steve’s eyes blazed. “Of course it matters. I’ve lost everything and you-” Steve broke off and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Steve’s gaze traveled the familiar path down Tony’s chest before he continued, “And you- you mock it.”

“‘You mock my pain,'” Tony quoted under his breath because it was obviously the first thing that leapt into his head, “'Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.'”

Steve glared at him, managing to somehow look both infuriated and confused at the same time. “What?”

Tony waved a hand. “Nothing, nothing.”

Tony scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to find a way around it, but there didn’t seem to be one. He would have to talk about it.

“So, I’m never going to find my soulmate.”

The words hung in the air between them and a heavy silence reigned. Tony thought that might have been first time he had ever said the words out loud. Steve’s eyes were dark and intent and they bored into Tony’s. “And I care, _of course_ I care.”

Tony’s hands shook as he took a sip of coffee he could no longer taste and his stomach churned. Tony didn’t do this. He didn’t talk to people about this. Or, at least, he didn’t talk to people who didn’t already _know_ (Pepper, Rhodey, the therapist Pepper had cajoled him into occasionally seeing), but for some reason, he wanted to talk to Steve. Which was good, because Tony was fairly certain the only way forward for them lay through exposing his own soul.

Tony exhaled shakily and continued, “I care, but some people wouldn’t you know, and it’s pretty - I don’t even know the word - backwards? puritanical? soul-mate-elitist? for you to judge someone for their views on soulmates. But I think- I think I get it. You probably wouldn’t care if it was someone else. It matters because it’s me and I’m not just Tony, I’m Tony _Stark_.” And apparently there was a fundamental disconnect between Steve Rogers, the kid from 1940’s Brooklyn, and Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and embodiment of the future.

“Then why-” Steve gestured towards the arc reactor and Tony laughed, a little hysterically.

Part of Tony wished the coffee he was drinking was Irish. Or that the cup of coffee was actually a glass of whiskey ( _in for a penny…_ ).  It would certainly be easier to have this conversation if he were drunk. And at least then Tony would have an excuse for what he was about to say. Any reason would be better than the actual reason - that Tony wanted to say it. Because it was fucking irrational to want to spill his guts to holier-than-thou Steve Rogers, Captain fucking America.

“Why? I don’t even know where to-,” Tony paused and shrugged, “Because I needed a reminder of the promise I made in that cave to try to do better and be better in spite of what I had lost. Because Iron Man deserves a soul-light even if I don’t. Because isn’t it better for people to look at me in anger and outrage instead of with pity?” The longer Tony spoke, the easier it was. It felt good, not having to dissemble any longer.

Steve’s lips parted in stunned shock and if that was the reaction Tony got for telling the truth, then he might have to try doing it a little more often, just to spice things up.

“I- _Tony,_ ” Steve’s voice cracked on Tony’s name and Tony thought Steve finally understood, at least a little. Maybe part of what Tony had said had found an echo in Steve.

Tony had laid bare a good number of the pieces of his soul for Steve to see and for the first time in their tumultuous relationship, Tony thought that Steve - no longer blinded the light of what he thought the arc reactor stood for and his own fury and grief - might actually be looking.

“And just because the arc reactor is important to me doesn’t mean there aren’t days when I can’t stand to look at it.” Tony toyed with the sugar packets in a holder front of him, absentmindedly re-arranging them by color.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” he said and winced. _Fuck, that was trite_. Also, Tony didn’t quite believe it himself, but maybe he could find a way to make Steve believe it. And that was more important than Tony believing it. Steve deserved to be okay.

“I don’t-” Steve began and broke off. Tony met Steve’s eyes again and Steve continued, “So many people are worse off than me- I can’t let- I _need_ to be okay. I _need_ to be able to keep going.”

And Tony understood, of course he did. Tony tapped his fingers on the table. “I get that. But it’s a big world Cap and it’s only gotten bigger. You don’t have to deal with it alone.”

“I am alone.”

“Oh fuck you, Rogers,” Tony said, collapsing back against his seat in exasperation.

Steve’s mouth fell open in shock for the second time in as many minutes. “What?”

“You heard me you giant drama queen. Look, you have… _people_ that care and _people_ that want to help, so let them.”

( _I care; I want to help._ )

Tony couldn’t believe he was the one lecturing someone else about self-destructive behavior, but here they were. Irony was bitch. Whatever. Beggars couldn’t be choosers and if Tony didn’t do this, then who would? Fucking Clint “even more of a human disaster and emotionally crippled than Tony” Barton? Not likely.

“And if this is about the soulmate thing, who says you won’t find them? Who says that fate or karma or whatever cosmic bullshit that’s in charge of all this shit didn’t account for you becoming a Capsicle for a couple of decades? Look, you have a chance - no matter how small you think it is - to find them, to find that person. I don’t. So just don’t… fuck. I have no idea where this is going. People never let me get this far into inspirational speeches. I mean, they’re really not my forte. You’re the one with the rousing rhetoric and animating alliteration. I’m more of a cheap trick and a cheesy one-liner type of guy myself, which is why you’re in charge of our little rag-tag group of heroes and not me-”

“Tony,” Steve gently cut him off, his eyes soft, but it didn’t feel like pity. It felt like understanding.

“Ok. Right. Look, even if you don’t find them… Well, I’m never going to find my soulm- _that person_ , and I’m doing okay.”

Steve leaned back in his seat and rubbed a hand over his mouth. When it came away, Tony noticed the corners of Steve’s mouth were turned imperceptibly up in the smallest of smiles. “Tony, you tried to fly a nuclear weapon into space.”  
  
“Fuck you, I _succeeded_ in flying a nuclear weapon into space. I saved the goddamn day.”

“Sure, but it was a little showy,” Steve said. His mouth quirked up even further and it was Tony’s turn to have his lips part in shock. Because Tony was fairly certain that had been a joke. Was Captain America allowed to do that? Tony wouldn’t survive this if it turned out that in addition his perfect face and perfect muscles, Steve also had a sense of humor.

Steve’s slight smile became a full-on grin at Tony’s reaction. It was the first time Tony had seen Steve smile since New York. It was still blinding, still brilliant, and it still made Tony’s pulse race. _Fuck._

And then Steve raised a hand, hesitated, and pulled it back for a moment before he finally placed it on top of one of Tony’s hands resting on the table. Steve gave it a light squeeze. “Thank you, Tony. I just- thank you,”

Tony looked at the hand covering his in dazed wonder. Had he actually made it through the embarrassing, sincere, heart-to-heart, _feelings_ part of a conversation without throwing himself out of a window or fucking up completely? _Holy shit_. Pepper would be proud.

Tony swallowed heavily before he found his own smile. “Whatever Cap,” he scoffed and looked away from Steve, “Consider it my community service for the month. Care and feeding of the elderly.”

“‘The elderly?’ Huh. You weren’t saying I was too old an hour ago when I was pounding you into the ground.”

Tony choked on his sip of coffee, “What the fuck, Rogers-” and Steve _laughed_ , clearly delighted with himself. Tony took it all in, entranced.

Steve’s laugh ended with a small wince and he lifted a hand to the bruise that had bloomed on his cheek - a souvenir from their fight that due to the serum would be short lived.

Tony’s gaze dropped to the bruise. “Uh, I’m sorry?” Tony hazarded. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he had apologized for something, so he was a little rusty.

Steve shook his head, still smiling. “You have one hell of a right hook. Wasn’t expecting that outside of the armor. It was a nice surprise. We could spar again?” Steve asked the question hesitantly.

Tony didn’t know what possessed him, but a moment later he leaned forward and brushed the tips of his fingers over the bruise and the arch of Steve’s cheekbone. Tony felt the simple touch reverberate through his body and he wanted _more_. Steve’s eyes were wide and dark and Tony jerked his hand back away from temptation, away from the flame.

“Um, yes. Yes, we could definitely spar again. Like I would ever turn down the chance to get the better of Captain America,” Tony said, and pasted on a hurried smirk as he berated himself silently. _Fuck, I should never have-_

Steve was silent for an endless moment before he smiled again. Tony breathed a sigh of relief. “ _Try_ to get the best of Captain America is what I think you mean. I won’t go so easy on you next time.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, okay Captain Nonagenarian,” Tony said, feeling… well, _good._ What would have seemed like a monumental task hours ago - laughing and smiling back at Steve - seemed as easy as breathing.

Steve grinned and finally took a bite of his pie. He let out a little noise of pleasure as he chewed and his eyes slipped closed. “Wow, you weren’t lying, Tony. That’s some good pie. Best thing I’ve had in my mouth in ages.”

Tony’s feeling of ease evaporated and he had to resist the urge to bang his head on the table. Fuck. Tony watched Steve lick his lips - pink tongue darting out from red lips - unable to tear his gaze away. Steve Rogers was going to fucking kill him.

\-------

Steve worked on finishing his slice of pie and they talked.

Not about memories that still had jagged edges or soulmates or even Avenger’s business.

Not about anything of consequence, actually.

Tony showed Steve one of the SI projects he was working on. The holographic schematic for the advanced prosthesis hovered above the table, cast from Tony’s phone, and Steve explored it as Tony talked, his eyes lighting up with wonder.

(“And of course, the problem with making a truly useful prosthetic is not just accounting for muscle movement and control, but also for proprioception, which is much more difficult to-”

“Did you really design this?” Steve asked, his fingers playing through the holograph.

Tony nodded.

“Amazing,” Steve breathed and Tony felt his heart do something weird that was either skipping a beat or a warning of impending cardiac failure or possibly both.)

Steve asked something about a movie he had seen advertised, and the conversation quickly turned to pop culture. Steve had some hilarious ideas about what constituted good literature and film.

(“Dickens? Really?”

“Tony, no one did more to force society to realize that the poor, the marginalized, and the working class were people too.”

“Effective social commentary doesn’t automatically make someone a good writer. Dickens is too sentimental, too idealistic, and maybe his greatest sin - too verbose. Honestly, who has the time?”

“‘Who has the time?’” Steve echoed, looking scandalized. It was a good look on him.)  
  
Tony told Steve one or two of his favorite MIT stories, including how he had met and befriended Rhodey - a story that involved alcohol, a set of handcuffs, campus security, and a live pig and that amazingly managed to elicit Steve’s second laugh of the night. Not that Tony was keeping count or anything ridiculous like that.

Steve ate four more pieces of pie.

Tony drank three more cups of coffee and would have had more if Steve hadn’t somehow managed to slyly switch Tony’s mug for one filled with decaf while Tony wasn’t looking.

They stayed and talked for so long the diner began to close around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written a detailed fight/sparring scene before.... so forgive me (I tried!). Thank you again for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting!!! 
> 
> Next chapter: Tony and Steve try to be... friends???


	4. Chapter Four

A few days later, Tony was back at SHIELD, wending his way through residence hallways until he found the door he was looking for. It was open. Tony stopped and poked his head in.

The room was small and spartan and contained little else besides a closet, a half-filled bookshelf, a desk, and a neatly made bed upon which sat one super soldier, his head bent, intent on the sketchbook in his lap.

“Nice place you got here,” Tony drawled and Steve’s head jerked up.

“Tony,” he said. A small smile played around his lips. It still did funny things to Tony’s insides, seeing that smile.

“So, today Pepper helpfully informed me that I happen to have a permanent box at Yankee stadium.”

“Okay?” Steve said and Tony rolled his eyes.

“And there’s a game tonight. Wanna go?”

Steve’s eyes widened, his surprise clear. Like he hadn’t expected this. Like maybe he had thought that despite their talk, nothing would actually change between them. Which was stupid. As if Tony would ever leave Steve alone now that he knew Steve might actually tolerate his presence.

“I’ll buy you a foam finger and some peanuts,” Tony wheedled. That was what people did at baseball games, right? Ate peanuts? God knows Howard had never bothered to take Tony to a sporting event when he was growing up, so he was going in blind here.

Steve snorted, rose to his feet, and brushed his hands down to straighten his terrible old-man khakis that he still somehow managed to look good. “You know I grew up watching the Dodgers and so am pretty much required to hate the Yankees, right?”

Tony grinned. “You can root for the other team,” he said breezily.

Steve laughed and followed Tony out of SHIELD.

When they reached Tony’s Tesla Roadster, Steve gave it an admiring, somewhat greedy once-over before he looked back at Tony and asked, “Hey, can I drive?”

“Do you have a license?” Tony asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“Sure,” Steve said and, well, good enough.

Tony tossed him the keys and Steve snagged them out of the air with a smile.

They peeled out of the SHIELD parking garage with a squeal of the tires. They then proceeded to zip and weave down New York streets at probably about twice the legal speed limit - the wind whipped through their hair and a giant, carefree grin spread across Steve’s face. _Holy shit_. Captain America drove like a maniac. And, Tony loved it.

“Where exactly did you learn how to drive?” Tony asked. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the rushing air and sounds of the city.

“Nazi Germany,” Steve answered cheerfully as he ran a yellow light and narrowly avoided hitting a bicyclist.

\-------

After that, it wasn’t easy, but it got easier.

They cautiously felt each other out at first, but once Tony realized Steve was done putting up walls between them, he did what he did best and pressed his advantage.

And now, whenever Tony pushed (dragging Steve out of his deeply depressing isolation in SHIELD for dinner, a movie, an art gallery opening, another baseball game), Steve didn’t push back. Instead, it became a routine. Tony would appear at SHIELD and Steve? Well, Steve would smile at him and ask, “So where are we going today?”

And gradually, Steve’s smiles came quicker and quicker. As if maybe he had realized that when they were together, neither of them needed to pretend to be anything other than who and what they really were.

The more time they spent together, the more Tony began to see the edges and curves of who Steve actually was beneath the cowl: a sharp, incisive mind eminently capable of keeping up with Tony; a wry, dorky sense of humor that flourished when given a chance, and always kept Tony on his toes; a will of steel to rival Tony’s will of iron; a burning need to keep going that Tony also saw inside himself; a good, if somewhat bruised and battered heart that Tony _wanted_ -

Tony cut that thought off quickly. Steve’s heart wasn’t Tony’s to fix.

It was easier, but it wasn’t easy, because what Tony was doing with Steve was somehow both the most effortless and the most complicated thing he had ever tried to do.

Some days, Steve would see something and his expression would darken, his eyes going far away as he replayed some memory from his past. Tony could never tell if the memories caused Steve pleasure, pain, or mix of both.

And then some days, Tony would say the wrong thing.

Steve would usually snap back and one or both of them would storm off, their anger flaring hotly like fire in their veins. But after the first couple of times it happened and Tony being terrified that this was it, this was the end, he learned that it didn’t matter.

They fought, but it didn’t change anything. They always found their way back to…. this, them - whatever it was they were tentatively building together.

\-------

Tony watched helplessly as Steve stormed out of the room. The door slammed closed behind him and sound ricocheted in quiet of the workshop. Tony closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he cursed.

It had been one careless sentence. A few unthinking words that had quickly escalated into an unimportant argument that both of them had refused to drop and now everything was ruined, the tentative connection he had been building with Steve burned to ash.

No more excursions into the city. No more carefree smiles. No more Steve.

Tony’s stomach clenched and roiled. He felt sick and empty.

Why did he always do this? Tony pushed and pushed and inevitably, it made people leave. But he couldn’t seem to stop doing it. Would he ever learn? Why couldn’t he be better? Be the type of person Steve deserved to have in his life? _Stupid. Careless._

Tony’s gaze caught on the bottle of Blanton’s bourbon sitting on a counter across the room and his fingers itched, desperate for something, anything that could quiet the storm of doubt and loathing raging inside of him. A second later, he was holding the bottle in his hand and pouring one, two, _five_ fingers into a glass.

Tony raised the glass to his lips, already relishing how the smoky spice of the bourbon would burn across his tongue. But before he could take a sip, the door to his workshop banged open and Steve stalked back inside.

Tony narrowly avoided spilling the contents of his glass all over himself in his shock.

Why was Steve back? Had he come back just to yell at Tony again? Probably. And Tony likely deserved it.

Steve walked over to him and Tony set the untouched bourbon back down on the counter, bracing himself for whatever Steve was going to say.

Steve stared at him and Tony remained silent, unwilling to risk making things any worse.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Steve eventually said.

Tony took a shaky breath. “No, I shouldn’t.”

“And you’re sorry.”

“Yes.”

Steve’s rigid posture relaxed infinitesimally and Tony felt some of his own tension drain away. “I shouldn’t have said what I said either.”

Tony could barely believe what was happening. He licked his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Steve echoed with a nod, and then he smiled. It was like the sun breaking through the clouds. “Okay. We were supposed to be leaving for the Vermeer exhibit at the Met. Are we still going?”

A fizzing, weightless wave of relief swept through him. Somehow, Steve was here and smiling at him once more. Steve had come _back_. “Of course, Spangles. Who else would I trust to make boring Dutch art interesting?”

Tony followed Steve out of the workshop, the bourbon forgotten on the benchtop.

\-------

Tony had once thought that once he figured Steve out, he would be able to move on. He couldn’t have been more hilariously wrong. Tony found Steve endlessly, distressingly fascinating. Tony wanted to know everything about him. Tony wanted everything Steve would give him.

The first time Steve had smiled at Tony, Tony had thought he was one hundred percent screwed. It didn’t take long for Tony to realize he was _definitely_ one hundred percent screwed. Tony should have seen it coming and he should have stopped it, but he hadn’t because he’d always had a self-destructive weakness for beautiful, dangerous things.

 _What happens when it ends?_ whispered the insidious voice inside of his head over and over again. _Good things always end._

Tony settled for cheerfully and willfully ignoring it.

\-------

By the time Tony managed to extract himself from the SI board meeting, evening was already well underway. The elevator doors opened on his floor in the tower and Tony walked into the dusk-dark room. He loosed his tie and called out, “Lights, JARVIS.”

The room gradually filled with light only to reveal Steve, who was sitting on the couch in Tony’s living room.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tony cursed, jumping in surprise. Steve’s head jerked up and his gaze collided with Tony’s as he hurriedly rose to his feet.

“Captain Rogers is waiting for you in the living room, Sir,” JARVIS intoned and Tony snorted.

“Yeah, thanks. I got that much, J.”

“Tony,” Steve said, shifting from foot to foot, “JARVIS said it was okay for me to come up and wait for you, but if this isn’t a good time, I can go-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tony said, waving off Steve’s worry. He stripped out of his suit jacket and unbuttoned his vest. Steve’s eyes seemed to follow the motion for a moment before they snapped back to Tony’s. Tony unbuttoned and rolled his shirt sleeves, feeling himself begin to gradually relax as they both sat back on the couch. Steve’s gaze broke away and flicked down to his own lap, and after a beat of heavy silence Tony asked, “What can I do for you, Cap?”

Steve met Tony’s eyes for a split second before he looked away again. “I never said I was sorry. I am, you know. Sorry,” he said, his voice tight.

Tony fought the urge to gape at Steve in surprise. “Sorry for what?” Tony asked, his voice loud in the too-quiet apartment.

“Sorry for the things I said, sorry for the way I treated you, sorry about this,” Steve said quietly as he leaned forward. His fingers traced the edge of the arc reactor where it was now visible, the soft blue light shining through the fabric of Tony’s white dress shirt. Tony’s breath caught in his lungs - Steve’s barely-there touch _burned_.

Thrown completely off-kilter, Tony somehow managed to summon a smirk, “Holy shit, is Captain America actually apologizing to me? Hold on a sec, I think I need to record this so I can be sure I’m not hallucinating-”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve said, his voice rough, and Tony paused in his rambling. He took a moment to really look at Steve. The tense, miserable hunch of his shoulders. The harsh twist of Steve’s mouth. The dark smudges barely visible beneath too-bright eyes. _Shit._ How sleep deprived was Steve if Tony could read his exhaustion so clearly?

Steve’s hands were clenched tight, balled up where they rested on his thighs. When Tony looked, he could see that the knuckles on both hands were red, split, and barely beginning to heal. They spoke clearly of too many recent hours spent with a heavy punching bag. Tony reached out and his fingers brushed carefully over one of Steve’s hands in a soft touch. The hand relaxed and splayed open. Tony stroked one of Steve’s fingers, mapping the bone underneath broken skin and wished it was possible to take away Steve’s pain with a simple touch. Eventually, Tony withdrew his hand even though he wanted nothing more than to keep touching; to take Steve’s hand in his own.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Tony said. It wasn’t quite true - until Steve had said the words, Tony hadn’t realized how much he had wanted to hear them - but Tony would say anything to get Steve to stop looking like _that_.

“Of course I do,” Steve said angrily, “You can’t just let people- I _hurt_ you, Tony. I know I did and I’m sorrier than you could ever know. But that doesn’t make it right. It was- easier. Easier to not care and to use it as an excuse to push you away.”

“Steve-” Tony said, helplessly. It was all he said. It was all he could say. How was he supposed to… Steve had come here and clearly needed something and Tony had no idea how-

“Every time I looked at it, at the light, all I could see was a reminder of what I had lost. And when I remembered that you had lost something too, all I could think was, ‘He seems fine. He doesn’t even care.’ And I didn’t understand how you could be fine when every time I close my eyes, all I can see his face as he falls and hear her voice in my ear and feel the ice-cold water swallowing me whole.” Steve spoke quickly. His words practically tumbled over themselves in their haste to get out and they vibrated with feeling.

Tony didn’t have any words.

He cautiously reached out, moving slowly so Steve could stop him if he wanted to. His hand landed on Steve’s arm and moved up, coming to cup Steve’s shoulder. His thumb brushed against the base of Steve’s collarbone, and he stroked the bare skin there. Tony’s other hand rubbed down Steve’s other arm and Steve… well, _collapsed_ was probably the only word for the way he moved forward, curling into Tony’s chest.

The blue glow of Tony’s arc reactor reflected onto Steve’s chest and it was almost like-

But no. That wasn’t-

And then Steve started shaking. There were no tears and no sounds, just fine tremors that wracked his body. Tony held him through it. He brushed a hand through soft golden hair and murmured, “I know, I know, it’s okay.”

Tony closed his burning eyes and tried to keep himself together. Because Steve needed this and Tony needed to be able to give it to him even though it felt like crawling through broken glass to see Steve fall apart while carrying a grief too big to be spoken. He hurt and Tony hurt with him.

“I know, I know, it’s okay.”

Tony had no idea if it was okay. It terrified him that Steve apparently trusted Tony with this, with the hidden, hurting parts of himself. What had he ever done to make Steve think Tony deserved to be trusted with something so precious? Tony could barely keep himself together. How was he supposed to do it for Steve? But with Steve in his arms, it didn’t seem quite so impossible. Maybe, just maybe they could hold each other together.

\-------

Sometimes, Tony liked to think about their relationship in terms of firsts.

The first time Steve voluntarily told a story from his past. At first, it was one. And then there was another and another until Tony came to know their names - _Sarah, Bucky, Peggy_ \- almost as well as his own.

The first time Steve came to Tony on one of his bad days instead of retreating to the gym. They didn’t talk about it (that time), but Steve sat curled on a sofa in the corner of Tony’s workshop with a sketchpad and gradually, his shoulders lost their rigid tension.

The first time Steve called Tony in the middle of night. He didn’t have to say why. Tony knew what it felt like to lay awake for endless hours, terrified of what you would see once you closed your eyes.

The first time Steve deferred to Tony in the middle of a battle and let him make the play. Tony still remembered the way that not just Steve, but also everyone else had looked at him expectantly, all of them ready to listen and follow Tony’s command - as if Tony’s words were worth something.

The first time Steve called Tony his friend. It had knocked Tony for a loop, but he supposed that was what they were: friends. And sure, sometimes Tony would watch sunlight play across Steve’s features and think _beautiful_ , and when Steve touched him, Tony’s skin would itch for more, but it didn’t- it didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything.

They were friends. Tony was lucky to have that much.

The first time Tony found Steve willingly spending time with one of the other Avengers. Tony had walked into Steve’s room, only to find Natasha perched on Steve’s bed. Steve was painting her toenails as they argued over some terrible reality TV show. And a day later, when he and Steve were sparring, Tony had glanced down to find Steve’s toenails painted bright blue.

\-------

Tony was in his workshop, looking over the schematics that would integrate the arc reactor at the base of Avenger’s Tower with the New York City power grid, when he heard Steve get up from his couch and come stand beside him.

“Cap?”

“How does it work?” Steve asked and Tony tensed. The schematics for the arc reactor were closely guarded - only Tony and Pepper had access to them. In the wrong hands, the technology could easily be used to wreak untold havoc and destruction, and Tony had learned the hard way that no one could be trusted with his tech but him.

But this was _Steve_ asking.

“Do you really want to know?” Tony asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “It’s pretty boring.”

“It’s what’s keeping you _alive_ , Tony. Of course I want know how it works,” Steve said and he looked charmingly indignant.

“Well, alright then. You know I’d never turn down a chance to talk about my tech, so when your eyes glaze over and you’re bored out of your skull, remember that you asked for it.” Tony closed the schematic for the large-scale arc reactor and opened the one for the miniaturized version.

The holograph sprang to life above the table. Tony enlarged it and pulled it apart so Steve could see the inside.

“The important part is the core, which is made of what I like to call Badassium - patent pending. When the Bd ion undergoes beta decay, the emitted electron is captured by another Bd isotype, creating an electric circuit between the two. Gamma waves - photons - move towards the center and excited, high energy electrons move to the rim, which creates-”

“An electron imbalance which in turn produces an electrical cell,” Steve finished with a delighted grin. “A strong electrical cell, if it can power the suit. Wow, Tony, that’s amazing.”

Tony gaped at Steve. “What the fuck was that?” Tony demanded. All his brain seemed capable of was repeating “ _holy shit, that was hot”_ on loop.

“What?”

“That!” Tony said. He waved his hands at Steve. “The science!”

“Oh, that,” Steve said. His smile turned sheepish and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been taking some online courses. Trying to catch up on everything I’ve missed, you know.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “And you decided to take courses in chemistry and physics.”

Steve looked away and a slight blush stained his cheeks. “Well, you seem to like it, so I figured I’d give it a go.”

It took a lot to shock Tony speechless, but Steve still somehow managed to do it fairly regularly.

Tony licked his lips. “Well damn, Cap. If you’re angling for a job in SI R&D, you didn’t have to actually go through the trouble of learning something. I would’ve given you the job based on the strength of your jawline and those pretty baby-blue eyes alone.”

Steve rolled his eyes and knocked his shoulder against Tony’s. “And that’s why Pepper is CEO.”

Tony grinned. “First of all, fuck you. Second of all, you happen to be right this time, but we’re gonna call it an outlier and discard it from the dataset. And third of all, fuck you. Again.”

Steve grinned back at him before going turning back to the floating schematic. He stared at the holograph and then looked back over at Tony. His gaze tracked down Tony’s chest and focused on the blue light visible through his tank. “It really is something,” Steve said and sighed in wonder.

Seeing Steve gaze admiringly at the arc reactor was certainly a novel experience. It was oh so different from the look of disgust that used to come over Steve’s face whenever he had looked at it. And even more novel was that Tony no longer felt like hiding the arc reactor from Steve. In fact, at the moment, Tony had the insane urge to strip out of his tank top, bring Steve’s hand to his chest, and let his fingers play over the scarred skin surrounding the arc reactor. _Completely and totally insane._

“You know, until the serum, I was sure I was never going to have a soulmate. Almost everyone around me - except for Buck - had already found theirs by the time the war started. People found them pretty young then, but I hadn’t. I had so many health problems that the doctors told me I shouldn’t be surprised if soulmate dysfunction was one of them.”

The subject change was so abrupt all Tony could do was stare at Steve and blink.

Steve kept talking, his eyes intent on Tony’s. “That was half of the allure, you know. The serum would fix everything else wrong with me, so I figured it would fix that too. That maybe if I went through with it, I would finally have a chance at finding them. Throughout the war, I kept hoping I would find them… but I didn’t. And then the plane went down and I woke up with 70 years missing and I just knew - in the bone-deep way you know things - I wasn’t going to find them. And for a long time, that hurt.”

Steve still hadn’t looked away from Tony and Tony warily searched Steve’s expression, but he didn’t seem upset.

“It’s taken me a while, but do you know what I’ve realized? The serum _did_ fix everything that was wrong with me, so if I can’t find my soulmate, then it must not be a problem - it must not be something that’s wrong with me.” Steve smiled and shrugged. “I think the universe knew I’d be okay without them. That maybe I could even find something better.”

\-------

Tony had firsts with Steve too.

The first time during one of Tony’s numb days when he went to find Steve instead of finding comfort at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey.

The first time Tony talked about Howard with Steve. Not a lot, but enough for Steve to understand that his Howard wasn’t Tony’s Howard. Enough for Steve’s eyes to flash stormily and his hands to curl into fists with anger at someone who was long gone. It was sweet and pointless and it made Tony want to curl up in Steve’s arms and never leave.

The first time Tony talked about Maria with someone who knew exactly what that loss felt like.

The first time Tony woke up from a nightmare and called Steve. Steve, who understood and talked about nothing important. He simply spoke and kept Tony company, and Tony let the sound of Steve’s voice lull him back to sleep. When Tony woke up the next morning, the call was still connected and he could hear the soft, even breathing of Steve asleep on the other end of line.

The first time Tony looked at Steve and realized that somewhere along the line, his own happiness had become inexorably intertwined with Steve’s. Tony had no idea how to fix it. Tony had no idea if he even wanted to.

\-------

“Move into the Tower,” Tony said one day, completely out of the blue. Steve hadn’t even been doing anything special, just lounging on the opposite end of Tony’s couch as they watched a movie. The sun had glinted off his hair as he tipped his head back and laughed softly at something on the screen and Tony… didn’t want him to leave. Ever.

Steve looked at him, his eyes wide.

_Fuck._

“Ok, listen. It makes sense. You spend most of your time here anyways. And your room at SHIELD is tiny - barely big enough to fit you and your actual shield - and I’ve seen what the SHIELD cafeteria tries to pass off as food. Here, you would have an entire apartment and kitchen to yourself.  Two Avengers - me and Bruce - already live in the tower, so it’s not like it would be weird for you to live here too. Also, who knows what awful, probably incurable diseases are lurking in the SHIELD communal showers - I mean _Barton_ uses them - so-”

“Tony,” Steve stopped him, grinning.

Tony waited, his heart pounding and thoughts racing. _Say yes - stupid, I shouldn’t have asked, what was I thinking - say yes - why would he want to live here, live with me - say yes._

“Yes, I’ll move into the tower.”

\-------

Steve had almost no stuff to move.

“Well, I was dead for 70 years, Tony,” Steve said as he carried the last of his pitiful boxes into his new suite of rooms.

Tony, who was perched on a counter supervising the entire sad endeavor that was Steve moving and enjoying the view whenever Steve would bend over, immediately protested. “You weren’t dead.” Because thinking about the words “Steve” and “dead” in the same sentence terrified him. “You just weren’t… inclined towards consciousness.”

Steve straightened and grinned. “Wow, that’s probably the cutest way I’ve ever heard a decades-long coma described.”

“I’m not cute,” said Tony, mortally offended.

“Then get down from there and help me unpack. Only cute people get to sit on my kitchen counters and do nothing useful.”

“I take it back, I’m adorable. Definitely too cute to be put to work.”

And if after seeing the pathetic extent of Steve’s possessions, Tony developed a habit of buying little things he thought Steve might like (a first edition of The Silmarillion, because Steve was a giant Tolkien nerd; a Morgan Russell print that looked like a bunch of colors squished together to Tony but that he knew Steve would love; a baseball hat with the old Dodgers logo that Steve could wear when he tried - and failed - to go “incognito” around New York), then it was just because Steve needed more stuff. And it was definitely _not_ connected to the way Steve smiled when he thanked Tony for one his presents, always with a light blush staining his cheeks.

Tony was just being a good teammate and providing for a fellow Avenger, that was all.

\-------

Tony learned a lot about Steve, living with him.

(Not that that they were _living together._ They just… lived in the same building. And spent most of their time together. And sure, there were a lot of nights where Steve would crash in the guest bedroom on Tony’s floor rather than make the trek down to his floor, but that it didn’t mean anything. It was fine. Everything was fine. Tony was _fine_.)

Steve had reasonably good taste in movies. The more movies Steve watched, the more he seemed to enjoy cheekily showing off his new pop culture knowledge for Tony. Lately, Steve had taken to quoting The Princess Bride (“It has everything you would want in a movie Tony, stop laughing at me”). And Tony, because he apparently liked to indulge Steve in all things, started quoting it back to him.

(They were sparring and Steve pinned Tony to the mat. “Surrender?” he asked with an arched brow.

Tony just grinned. “You wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept.”

Steve collapsed to the mat giggling and that’s how Clint found them a few moments later, both sprawled on their backs, laughing.)

Steve was prone to getting bad Top-40 songs stuck in his head and liked to absentmindedly hum them as he puttered around his apartment. Tony quickly found himself caving and he started playing them for Steve whenever he visited Tony in the workshop.

Steve’s preferred lounging-at-home clothes were threadbare sweatpants and a clinging tank top that had seemingly been invented to torture Tony by putting as much of Steve’s musculature on display as possible.

Steve was a card sharp.

(Tony only figured it out halfway through their first tower poker night, which so far involved a lot more alcohol and trash talking than actual poker playing. Tony glanced at Steve at just the right moment and saw it. Steve’s fingers moved faster than was humanly possible and a card appeared from thin air only to discreetly find its way into Steve’s winning hand.

“You’re cheating,” Tony exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Steve.

Clint gasped and clutched his chest, Bruce’s jaw dropped, Rhodey choked on his drink, and Natasha raised an incredulous eyebrow.

Steve spluttered. “Well Bruce has been stacking the deck, Nat and Clint are marking cards, and you and Rhodey have been taking turns false dealing!”

“Well, obviously _we’re_ all cheating!” Tony said before continuing mournfully, “But I expected better of you, Spangles! Truth, honor, decency - good old fashioned American values. And then there’s Captain America, cheating at cards.” Tony shook his head sadly.

Clint laughed so hard he fell off his chair. Steve grinned - clearly unrepentant - and magically produced the ace of hearts with a flourish. He then tucked it into Tony’s hand, completing Tony’s royal flush.)

Steve didn’t like to be alone.

More often than not, Steve could be found in either Tony’s apartment or Tony’s workshop, which Steve seemed to view as extensions of his own personal space. Not that Tony minded.

(If it had been anyone other than Steve, Tony probably would have minded.)

But as it was, Tony tried not to think about the fizzing curl of warmth that wound its way through him whenever he walked into his apartment only to find Steve already there, reading on his couch or cooking in his kitchen.

Steve didn’t like it when people touched him. Whenever someone touched Steve, Tony would notice Steve’s nearly imperceptible tensing and flinch.

However, this didn’t seem to stop Steve from touching Tony. A lot. Brushes down Tony’s arm, hands on Tony’s hips when Steve passed behind him, Steve’s shoulder pressed against Tony’s as they watched a movie on the couch. Steve didn’t like touching, but Tony was apparently his exception. Tony still wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Steve called the tower “home” and slowly, Tony started to think of it as home too. He rarely went back to Malibu.

Steve liked to cook and often, he liked to cook for Tony.

(“What’s that?” Tony asked, lured into the kitchen by something that smelled absolutely fantastic and achingly familiar.

“Carbonara. JARVIS told me it was one of your favorites when I asked, so I gave it a shot.”

Tony swallowed heavily. “It is. One of my favorites, that is. My mom used to make it for me all the time.”

Steve shot Tony a quick smile over his shoulder as he put the finishing touches on the dish. “I didn’t know that. Did she cook for you a lot?”

Tony laughed a little at that, the memory - as most memories of his parents were - bittersweet. “No, not at all. She only knew how to make about five dishes, but she made all of them well.”)

Steve also liked it when Tony slept.

Whenever Tony got caught up with something in his workshop, Steve seemed to have an uncanny knack (Tony suspected some sort of collusion with JARVIS) of knowing when Tony right on the verge of either passing out or drinking four more cups of coffee just to stay awake for a little longer. And at that moment, Steve would swoop into the lab and find some way to coax or trick Tony into sleeping, even if it was just for a few hours on the couch in his workshop.

Steve was like sunlight and the rushing wind of a spring day, and every time he left (every few weeks he would disappear for long hours or days on missions for SHIELD), Tony learned what it was to miss him. In Steve’s absence, the tower abruptly became too empty, too quiet, and too lonely and Tony wondered how he would bear living there after the day Steve left for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic also now has a beta!! The lovely ishipallthings is betaing and this chapter is infinitely better because of her input :D I can't thank her enough!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading/commenting/leaving kudos!


	5. Chapter Five

“JARVIS, can you ask Steve to come down to the workshop?” Tony asked. 

“Of course, Sir. Captain Rogers is on his way,” JARVIS replied and Tony had to fight the immediate urge to have JARVIS tell Steve “never mind.” Tony had put this off for weeks, he couldn’t put it off any longer.

A few minutes later, the doors to the workshop opened and Steve walked inside. 

“Hey, Tony. JARVIS said you needed me?” Steve asked with a smile.

“Hey, Cap.” Tony said and tried to smile back and look as normal possible. Apparently he didn’t succeed because Steve’s smile turned into a slight frown. 

“Tony? Is everything okay?”

Tony bit his lip, nervous. “Yeah Cap, everything’s peachy-keen. I just need to give you something.”

“Okay.”

Tony handed Steve a slip of paper. “Can you read out this series of numbers?”

Steve did, shooting Tony a questioning look. 

“Great. Now memorize it.”

Steve raised both eyebrows but dutifully looked back at the paper. After about a minute, he looked up. “Got it.” With Steve’s eidetic memory, “got it” was a lifetime guarantee.

“Good,” Tony said. He then plucked the piece of paper from Steve’s hands and promptly incinerated it with a blowtorch.

Steve’s eyebrows climbed even higher. “Tony, what’s-”

“It’s an override code. For the armor,” Tony said hurriedly. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. Steve’s mouth fell open and Tony continued. “Say the code where JARVIS can hear you and the armor will shut down. And then, when it’s safe, all the internal circuitry will burn up, permanently incapacitating the armor. Also you should know the code is keyed specifically to your voice and your voice only. So if it needs to be used, you would have to be the one to say it.”

“Tony, what-  _ why _ ?” Steve asked, still looking stunned.

“Look, I know better than anyone that one day the armor might fall into the wrong hands. And if it does, it’ll be because I’ve been… incapacitated, at the very least. If that happens, there needs to be someone else who can stop it.” Tony finished speaking and hoped it would be enough of an explanation for Steve.

_ Take it, take the explanation. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Don’t ask- _

“But I thought-” Steve cut himself off, looking troubled. “Tony, I’ve read the SHIELD files on the armor. I know you and JARVIS already have safety features built into it that would prevent anyone other than you using it.”

_ Fuck _ . Tony closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. He looked away from Steve’s searching gaze and shrugged. “Yeah, well, there’s no protocol for if my hands become the wrong hands. Hence the override code.” 

Tony glanced back at Steve and saw the moment he understood what Tony was saying, his expression twisting into outrage. “Tony,  _ what _ ? No. You would  _ never _ . You would never use the armor to…  _ hurt  _ someone.”

A part of Tony lit up with hope at Steve’s words.  _ If Steve believes it, then maybe _ … but no. “Steve, the things I’ve built hurt - no,  _ killed  _ \- thousands, tens of thousands of people. Some of those people deserved it and some were innocents. Regardless, there’s blood on my hands.”

Some days Tony looked in the mirror and thought,  _ I can’t do this. Deciding what’s good and right, playing the hero. How could I have ever believed I was the proper person to make those calls? _

Now, if there came a day where Tony stopped being able to make those calls, Steve would be able to stop him. He trusted Steve to stop him.

“I hurt people. I did it once, I did it for years. Haven’t you heard? I’m a vain, alcoholic, playboy with no evident moral fiber or ethical beliefs. What’s to stop me from doing it again?”

“You are!” Tony’s head snapped up at the vehemence in Steve’s voice. “You  _ did _ , Tony. As soon as you realized what was happening you put a stop to it. You think I haven’t seen the press conference? You think I didn’t recognize the guilt in your eyes? I don’t care about the bullshit SHIELD wrote in their ‘personality assessment.’ They looked at you and saw what you wanted them to see. I did that too, but not anymore. Not for a long time. I know you, the real you, and you’re an Avenger because of who you are outside of the armor. You’re a hero because you’re Tony Stark, not because you’re Iron Man. So I’ll keep the fucking override code - mostly because you tricked me into memorizing it, which was a shitty thing for you to do, by the way - but I’m never going to use it. I’m never going to need to use it. And if I could burn it out of my memory, I would.”

Steve stood in front of Tony, his fists clenched and his eyes blazing.

Tony’s heart lurched and his pulse beat loudly in his ears. He had to blink away the burn of tears in his eyes. “Don’t be stupid,” Tony muttered, crossing his arms and fighting against the heat that threatened to stain his cheeks, “‘Burn it out of my memory.’ For fucks sake, Rogers, could you be more dramatic? You know the code is a smart idea, that it’s good for you to have it.”

“I don’t care,” Steve said, because he was a noble, idealistic idiot. “I don’t believe in the armor; I believe in you. And you’re a good man, Tony.” 

“Well, if Captain America says it, it must be true,” Tony snarked. Because when in doubt (and when confronted with anything approaching sincere emotion), use sarcasm.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t sell yourself short, Tony,” he said, his smile warm and his eyes fond. 

Tony wanted to sway forward into that warmth. 

Because at the end of the day, if Steve believed he was a good man, then Tony would happily spend the rest of his life trying to live up to that ideal.

\------

Steve kissed him and Tony burned. 

Steve’s hand cupped Tony’s jaw and angled it just so. Tony’s mouth opened easily and Steve’s tongue dipped inside as Tony’s eyes fluttered closed. Lips moved and tongues tangled. Steve’s mouth was hot and sweet and perfect and Tony had never felt anything better in his entire life.

A nip to Tony’s bottom lip and then Steve’s mouth was exploring the curve of his jaw and placing searing kisses along the sensitive slope of Tony’s neck, making him gasp. His head tipped back and Tony fought to hold back his moans. All he could think- No. Tony couldn’t think. He simply ached - hunger and lust drowned out everything besides  _ Steve _ . 

Steve’s hand raked down Tony’s flank and the scrape of his nails sent sparks racing beneath Tony’s skin. Tony arched into the touch with a cry. Steve gripped Tony’s thigh, hiking it up, and suddenly their bodies slotted together perfectly.

Miles of bare, warm, golden skin pressed against Tony’s and bright blue eyes stared into Tony’s, refusing to look away. And then Steve moved. A sinuous roll of his hips and their shafts slid together in a perfect grind that sent arousal rolling through Tony.

“Fuck,” Tony gasped and he could hear the naked desperation in his voice. His hands skated across Steve’s back, taking the chance to explore and feel all those powerful muscles moving, harnessed to bring Tony pleasure. It wasn’t anything complicated, just the hot, slick slide of their bodies together, but Tony was already lost to the sensation. He  _ needed  _ it.

“Steve,” Tony moaned and it was pleasure, prayer, and plea all in one.

“Shhh,” Steve shushed and his lips brushed across Tony’s cheek in a kiss that felt like a brand. And then Steve’s hand wrapped around Tony’s cock and stroked. Steve’s touch sent a bolt of white-hot need straight through him. Overcome, Tony closed his eyes and whimpered. It felt unbearably good.

Tony rolled his hips into Steve’s firm, sure grip. He knew he was close; lust and desire building inside of him in an unstoppable wave that would soon crest. Tony gasped. He wanted it, he was desperate to have it, but he couldn’t quite reach it.

“Tony.” Steve’s voice was low and rough in his ear, and Tony opened his eyes.

Steve was staring at him, his eyes full of adoration. And Tony couldn’t- it was suddenly all too much. His climax roared through him; pure, unadulterated pleasure obliterated everything in its path and left him dazed as he came.

Steve bent and kissed him, his lips sweet and light. His hand stroked across the smooth skin of Tony’s chest and the air between them seemed to glow blue.

Steve smiled. “Love you,” he murmured and it was like sunlight. “I love you, Tony. _Tony._ _Tony..._ ” Steve’s voice grew distant, fading away.

\------

“Tony.”

Tony jolted awake with a gasp.

Steve was leaning over him, fully clothed, with a worried frown on his face. “Tony, are you okay? It seemed like you were having a bad dream…”

Tony sat up. His pulse raced and his eyes darted around the room as he struggled to figure out what was happening.  _ Steve touching him.  _ He was on the couch in his workshop, a blanket pooled in his lap.  _ Steve looking at him, his eyes full of want and warmth _ . He must have been asleep.

_ It was a dream.  _

The realization hit him and Tony couldn’t help a small gasp of pain.

_ Oh god. Why? Why now? It hurts. Why does it hurt? How do I fix it?  _ Tony clutched his chest as the panic threatened to overwhelm him. Tony didn’t know how to deal with this-

“Tony,” Steve said, alarmed.

Tony focused on Steve. He was looking at Tony with wide, concerned eyes and his hand was cupped around Tony’s shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing back and forth in a gesture probably meant to soothe.

_ Steve’s hand stroking across Tony’s naked skin, Steve’s mouth on his, Steve whispering “I love you.”  _ The vivid scenes flashed in front of Tony’s eyes and he jerked back, flinching away from Steve’s touch.

_ Oh god. No. Please, no. Why is this happening? Why now? _

Steve’s eyes flashed with hurt and let his hand fall away.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tony said. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind and pull himself together.

Steve’s expression softened. “Hey, it’s fine. You’re fine,” Steve said and he stroked Tony’s arm again. Tony shivered, aware of Steve’s touch in a way he had never been before. “Do you want to talk about it?” Steve asked gently.

Tony shook his head sharply.  _ Talk about how all I can think about right now is kissing you?  _

“Is there anything I can do?” Steve asked like he always did after one of Tony’s nightmares.

“Um, I could use a glass of water?” Tony said, his voice hoarse. He was desperate to have a moment to himself. A moment where he could collect his thoughts and stop thinking about the fucking curve of Steve’s lips as they said “ _ I love you- _ ”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll run and get you one,” Steve said with a small smile. He stood up and a moment later, the door to lab closed behind him.

Tony breathed a sigh of relief before the guilt and dread slammed into him all over again, knocking the breath from his lungs.  _ Shit.  _ How could Tony have let this happen? God, what was wrong with him?

_ You know what’s wrong with you _ , the insidious voice inside of his head whispered.

Tony closed his eyes. His stomach roiled and his panic increased ten-fold. He clutched the blanket in his hands, trying to deny it, trying to think about anything else other than the obvious, horrifying truth: Tony was in love with Steve.

He likely had been for a while now, but it had taken a fucking dream for him realize it. In his dream, Tony had looked at Steve and seen everything he needed and everything he wanted. And when Tony had woken up, nothing had changed. Those feelings had still been there; Tony’s  _ admiration-trust-want-need-lust-love _ for Steve sharp and heavy in his heart.

Tony was in love with Steve. Steve, who was Captain America. Steve, who was strong, brilliant, good, and on any given day, ten times the person Tony was. Steve, who wasn’t his soulmate. Steve, who would never see Tony as anything other than a friend.

Fuck. Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _

\------

Tony tried not thinking about it.

Ignoring and dismissing the idea seemed to be the most practical route out of this mess, because having feelings for Steve could only end in tears and heartbreak. Well, tears and heartbreak for Tony. After all, Steve had a soulmate. Sure, he hadn’t found them yet, but they were out there. And when Steve did find them, he would be wholly and completely devoted to them. After all, he’d waited over 90 years for them.

One day soon, Steve would get his happily-ever-after and it wouldn’t include Tony.

So it didn’t matter what ridiculous feelings Tony might or might not have for him, because Steve belonged to someone else. And even if he didn’t, even if due to a freak turn of events, Steve ended up not having a soulmate, then he still would never want Tony. Who would? Tony’s laundry list of deficiencies was well known. He was selfish, arrogant, stubborn, egotistical, callous, reckless, self-destructive - and worst of all, broken. Broken, never good enough, and certainly not good enough for someone like Steve. 

It was simple. Steve would never want him. Steve was better off without out him. Steve would never be his. 

And that was fine. It had to be fine. 

It wasn’t like Tony was truly in love with Steve anyways. Tony didn’t know how to be in love. Was he even capable of it? A part of Tony believed that along with his soul, he might have also lost his heart in the hot sands of Afghanistan. 

And if being in love meant constantly feeling sick with wanting, then Tony wasn’t sure he wanted any part of it.

What he felt for Steve was a temporary, inconvenient insanity. It would go away. Tony was fine.

\------

Tony was not fine.

Alone in his darkening apartment, Tony stared at the bottle of whiskey. He desperately wanted a drink. No. He desperately wanted ten drinks. No, that wasn’t quite right either. What he actually wanted was however many drinks it would take to make him numb, to stop him from feeling like this.

In the long days since his realization, Tony had spent endless hours locked in his workshop avoiding everything but his schematics, his suits, and his bots. He tried to forget, but he couldn’t. Steve was there in Tony’s every other thought and when he couldn’t fight off sleep any longer, Steve was there too, front and center in every one of Tony’s dreams. 

And after 56 hours of self-imposed exile, Steve was there in person too to check on him, worried Tony wasn’t eating and sleeping properly. Tony had tried to send him away, but Steve looked so forlorn Tony had immediately caved and let him into the workshop. 

It was torture, being around Steve now. He craved every scrap of warmth and attention Steve gave him and when he went too long without seeing Steve, it felt like going into withdrawal - Tony’s mind wholly focused on the next time he would be able to see and touch Steve. It was slowly destroying him and he had no idea how to stop it.

And maybe worst of all, Tony couldn’t tell anyone. He couldn’t imagine saying the words out loud. 

Tony watched the light of setting sun glint and refracted off the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue and wanted to drink until all thoughts of Steve Rogers were purged from his brain. But he couldn’t because he didn’t do that anymore. Tony had stopped. He had stopped drinking after the night many weeks ago Steve had found him curled on the bathroom floor, sick, sweaty, and nearly incoherent after an evening spent trying to drink away his demons.

Steve hadn’t left. He had stayed with him, feeding Tony sips of water and brushing a hand through Tony’s tangled hair until Tony could stand again. And then Steve had helped him clean up and get into bed. Tony had dropped off into a fitful sleep and when he had woken - his mouth dry and his head throbbing - the first thing he had seen was Steve, his body twisted uncomfortably as he slept in one of Tony’s bedroom chairs. Steve had stayed with him the entire night.

“Please don’t do that again,” Steve had asked, his voice cracked and scared.

“I won’t,” Tony had promised, and he hadn’t.

Anger ripped through him, sudden and swift. Couldn’t Tony think about anything without also thinking about Steve fucking Rogers?

Before Tony knew what he was doing, the bottle of whiskey was in his hand and he threw it. It hit the wall and shattered. For long minutes, Tony watched as hundred-dollar scotch dripped down onto the floor. 

\------

_ You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.  _ Tony repeated it like a mantra in his head. And one day, it might even be true.

\------

They were in the communal gym showers, having just finished with sparring. 

Sometime yesterday, Tony had given up on trying to live in his workshop. He had finally felt brave enough to venture back into his apartment and of course, Steve had been there, sprawled across Tony’s living room couch with a book.

Steve had seen him and his delighted smile had made Tony’s stomach swoop with the same joy Tony felt when he wore the armor.  _ I love you _ , Tony had thought, the words heavy, cold, and desperate in his mind.

Steve had jumped up from the couch and cajoled Tony into sparring (“Come on Tony, I’ve been so bored”).

Sparring had been its own form of torture. Tony had been able to touch Steve, but not in the way he yearned to, and every time Steve had pinned him to the ground or caught him close in a hold, Tony had to fight against the hot flushes of arousal that threatened to overwhelm him. But now, they were in the communal gym showers and everything was exponentially worse. Because Steve was there, just a few feet away, naked, wet, and running soapy hands all over his body.

Tony briefly wondered if this was what hell was like. 

Because even though Tony had showered in the same room as Steve after sparring dozens of times before, everything felt different now. Now, Tony couldn’t seem to stop himself from looking and longing. Tony let his gaze slide over the expanse of Steve’s back, observing the graceful shift of muscles underneath golden, glistening skin. His gaze dropped lower and followed the water as it flowed over the firm curves of Steve’s backside and Tony wanted to touch, to close the few feet separating them and stroke his hand down Steve’s side, and then follow the path the water was taking with his tongue-

_ Fuck. _

Tony tore his eyes away. Shame rolled through him and made his gut clench. He hated himself for twisting this - sparring together, the bedrock of his friendship with Steve - into something sordid. He hated how now Steve’s touch always sent a blot of  _ heat-need-want  _ racing down his spine. If Steve knew what Tony was thinking, he would never speak to him again. 

Tony wondered if going forward, every moment between him and Steve would be tainted by Tony’s feelings. The thought made him nauseous. And at that moment, Tony would have given anything - his fortune, his company, even his armor - to turn back the clock to the time before he had realized his feelings for Steve.

\------

_ You might not be fine, but you will survive this. You’re Tony Stark, you’re Iron Man. This is hardly the worst thing you’ve had to face. _

That was what Tony did. He survived things. He would survive this.

\------

Tony lay alone in his cold, empty bed with a cold, empty heart. Both had been empty for some time; since Afghanistan. 

No soul-light meant no relationships. Why bother when the other person would inevitably leave you as soon as they found their soulmate? And casual sex was out too. Tony had tried it once or twice, when the gnawing need for human contact had become unbearable, but it had always ended in disaster. People usually had one of two reactions to the arc reactor: disgust or a kind of voyeuristic glee. Neither was especially conducive to setting the mood. And when you added in Tony’s aversion to being touched on his chest and his nightmares, one night stands ended up being far more trouble than they were worth.

So that left Tony alone. And he had been fine with it. Or rather, he eventually had made his peace with it. Part of Tony knew he deserved it, that the loss of his soul-light was a part of a penance he would never be done paying. But then Steve Rogers had burst into his life and Tony remembered what it was to want. 

Tony wondered how much longer he could hide this from Steve - Steve who knew Tony better than almost anyone. Both Pepper and Rhodey already suspected something was wrong and Tony was thankful for every day that passed without either of them confronting him about it. 

Tony didn’t know what he would do when Steve found out. Steve had already seen and stayed through so many of Tony’s lowest moments. Would this be the last straw? The thing that finally made Steve leave? Or worse, would Steve stay only to end up  _ pitying  _ him?

Tony curled onto his side. He fought the dull, hot sting in his eyes and tried to stop loving Steve.

\------

It didn’t work.

It didn’t get better and it didn’t go away, but Tony did get better at living with it. It was either learn to live with it - the bone-deep pain that came with unrequited love - or go insane. Tony chose option number one and in time, it became just another part of him. Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, philanthropist, inventor, Iron Man, Avenger, and in love with Steve Rogers.

Tony still found Steve beautiful. Steve was still Tony’s favorite person and one of the few he trusted unequivocally. And whenever they were together, Tony’s fingers itched and his skin still buzzed with the urge to be close to Steve, to touch him and close the circuit that seemed to hum between them. And so even though nothing changed, Tony gradually relaxed back into his friendship with Steve. Because while something more always thrummed beneath the surface when they were together, Tony knew he was the only one that felt it.

And eventually, Tony stopped hating himself for it. Loving Steve was clearly something that was out of his control. If Tony was able to change or get rid of his feelings, he would have done it by now.

Tony wasn’t fine, but he was content.

Tony accepted that he loved Steve and accepted that Steve would never love him back. It was okay. It was the way things were. It hurt, but being Steve’s friend - being the person Steve leaned on in this new world - was worth the pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating but a big shout out to my beta, ishipallthings for her A+ work in making sure this chapter worked! Up next: a little less angst followed by the events of CA:TWS :D 
> 
> As always, thank you so much to everyone that has read, left kudos and commented - your kind words mean the world to me!! And also, feel free to come say hi on tumblr ([lelantusposts](https://lelantusposts.tumblr.com)) if you want!


	6. Chapter Six

“Say yes, Steve. Come on. It’ll be good for you.”

Tony walked into his kitchen to find both Steve and Natasha, who was apparently trying to convince Steve to do something he didn’t want to do - a task Tony wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Natasha had Steve cornered, so as soon as Tony walked into the room, Steve’s wide, panicked gaze latched onto him and he relaxed in relief.

“Oh good! Tony, maybe you can convince him,” Natasha said as she turned to face him.

Behind her, Steve violently shook his head and silently mouthed “ _Save me._ ”

Amused, Tony asked, “Convince him to do what?”

“Go on a date. With Kristin. From Statistics.” Natasha rounded back on Steve with a smirk, “If you ask her out, she’ll definitely say yes. Actually, you don’t even have to ask her. I’ll do it for you. You’re not really 96, Steve. Going on one date won’t kill you.”

At Natasha’s words, Tony felt an icy chill race down his spine.

 _Mine._ The word ripped through Tony’s mind before he could stop it and he struggled against his instinctive, violent revulsion at the thought of Steve dating - the thought of Steve touching and kissing someone else.

“Don’t you agree?” Natasha asked, turning back to Tony.

Tony tried to keep his expression carefully neutral; he forced down all the _panic_ - _anger-jealousy_ inside of him and locked it away. But apparently Tony was out of practice because Natasha looked at him and blinked once as her gaze slowly turned shrewd and calculating.

_Fuck. Not good._

But before Tony could work himself into a proper panic at how this situation (and honestly, his entire life) was unraveling, Steve spoke. “Nat, I already told you, I’m not interested in dating.” Steve’s voice was firm, and Tony’s knees almost gave out from the relief that coursed through him.

 _Good,_ was Tony’s first thought. For a moment, he allowed himself indulge in a fantasy where Steve never went on a date, never met his soulmate, and never left Tony.

But it was only a fantasy.

“You should go.” Tony spoke. The words fractured his daydream into jagged shards.

“What?” Steve exclaimed, his eyes wide and confused as they looked at Tony.

Tony swallowed drily. “You should go on the date. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be the one?”  Ultimately, that was all Tony wanted - for Steve to be happy and find his soulmate. And Steve couldn’t do that if Tony kept him locked inside the Tower forever like he desperately wanted to.

Tony gave Steve a small (forced) smile but Steve didn’t smile back. Instead, he stared at Tony with troubled eyes and a frown Tony couldn’t decipher.

“So you’ll go?” Natasha said, but she no longer sounded very excited about the idea. Her eyes flicked back and forth between Steve and Tony as if reading the sudden tension swelling between them.

Steve kept looked at Tony for long seconds, his gaze searching. For what, Tony had no idea. After a beat, Steve blinked and his shoulders slumped.

“Okay, I’ll go.”

\------

“Hey.”

The familiar voice cut through the Metallica song blaring in Tony’s workshop and Tony jerked his head up to find Steve lounging in the doorway, his eyes soft and fond. Steve, who - it was only 9pm - should have been on the dessert portion of his dinner date right about now.

After a beat of silence on Tony’s part, he managed a weak, “Hey,” in response.

Steve grinned and strolled into the lab. He still wore the same clothes he had left in - a white t-shirt, his habitual leather jacket, and a pair of particular well-fitted jeans Tony wanted to peel off with his teeth-

 _Not the time_ , Tony firmly told himself, storing that mental image away for… later.

“Date not go well?” Tony asked. He tried not to sound too gleeful.

Steve shrugged. “It was fine I guess. But all through dinner I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I’d rather be back here,” he said.

Tony studied Steve. He seemed to be in a remarkably good mood for someone who had just had a lackluster date, beaming at Tony with a wide smile.

Tony echoed him, his own smile genuine and filled with delight at Steve’s words. Suddenly, the prospect of Steve dating didn’t feel quite so daunting. Steve could go on as many dates as he wanted as long as he came back to Tony afterwards.

\------

Every once and awhile, Tony managed to enjoy being in love.

After he’d lost his soul-light, Tony had given up all expectations of falling in love, so this - what he felt for Steve - was an unexpected gift. Yes, it was hard and painful and terrifying. But it was also exhilarating. Around Steve, his pulse raced, his stomach swooped, and Tony felt weightless.

He knew it was just chemicals - a potent mix of phenylethylamine, norepinephrine, dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin flooding his brain - but that didn’t change the fact that Steve made Tony giddily and incandescently happy.

Happy. For once, Tony was happy.

Ultimately, life was simply better when Steve was near. The air seemed crisper, sunlight shone brighter, and music was louder. And around Steve, _Tony_ was better. His mind worked quicker, his smiles were easier, and his belief in himself came more readily.

Most days, loving Steve somehow made the arc reactor feel less heavy where it sat in his chest.

This was how soulmates must feel.

Tony finally understood. Steve meant everything and Tony would let Rome, Italy, and the entire world burn if it meant keeping him safe and smiling.

\------

“You’re what?” Tony said, aware of how his voice cracked embarrassingly on the question.

“I’m leaving,” Steve said, his voice and face equally grim. “Me, Clint, and Natasha. SHIELD needs us based out of DC for the foreseeable future - Fury was pretty insistent on it.”

Tony felt like the floor had been ripped out from underneath him. Dread dug cold, jagged fingers into his gut and the entire room spun out of focus as he tried to process it.

Some of what he was feeling must have shown on his face, because Steve took a step closer, his eyes widening in concern. “Tony-”

Tony tried imagining New York, Avenger’s Tower, and his life without Steve and simply couldn’t. It was a reality he didn’t want to face.

Tony held up a hand to cut Steve off, shaking his head. “No. Don’t. I’m going to fix this.”

\------

“Look, New York and DC are basically the same place. It’s 204 miles between them. And that’s what? An hour on a commercial flight? Well, in a quinjet at Mach 2.1 it’s eight minutes. Actually it’s 7.757 minutes, but I guess you could spend the other 24.2 seconds on takeoff and landing, so we’ll stick with an even eight. Eight minutes. That’s all,” Tony said.

Nick Fury looked at Tony over steepled fingers. He sat on the other side of the desk in his office at the SHIELD New York complex, his expression giving nothing away. He was stolid in his silence.

This wasn’t going quite as well as Tony had hoped.

“If you let them stay, I’ll expedite production on those repulsor engines Hill has been harping on me about. And we can even have that talk about sonic weaponry for general SHIELD personnel I’ve been putting off-”

“For four years?” Fury’s words were tinged with a polite, skeptical disbelief. Tony ignored it and barreled ahead.

“That I’ve been putting off… indefinitely.”

Fury’s face remained impassive.

“Nick,” Tony said, and he let some of the desperation he felt slip in and color his voice, “Avengers’ Tower is in New York. The Avengers belong here. Their home is _here_.” The mere thought of the dissolution of his team ( _your family, you mean_ , whispered a voice in his head) left him panicked and shaking.

“And that’s why I’m not moving the Avengers to DC,” Fury replied.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh sure. You’re only taking 50 percent of the members, including our fucking team leader, to DC. That’s practically nothing.”

“Stark - it’s SHIELD business, not Avengers’ business. This isn’t personal,” Fury said.

“Right, sure. Not ‘personal.’ You just can’t afford to have the ‘consultant’ and the enormous green rage monster fucking things up with their volatile and self-destructive tendencies, right?” Tony shot back, his words bitter and biting.

Fury’s eyes narrowed. “If I thought that, do you think I would’ve trusted the two of you to be Avengers in the first place?”

Tony felt some of his anger drain away. Bleak resignation was left in its place. He slumped back in his chair and ran a hand over his face. “It doesn’t matter how much I think this is a shitty decision does it? I’m not going to talk, cajole, or bribe you out of it, am I?”

Fury’s gaze softened. “Stark, there are factors in play that you don’t know anything about - factors that make this the right and necessary decision. Romanoff, Barton, and Rogers need to be in DC and you and Banner need to be here. But if and when Avengers’ business requires it, you can bet your ass that Black Widow, Hawkeye, and the good Captain will be on the first quinjet available and headed to rendezvous with you within minutes.”

Tony hated admitting it, but there was a chance that Fury was right. Tony didn’t precisely trust him, but if Fury said Natasha, Clint, and Steve were needed in DC, then there probably was a good reason for them to be in DC.

Tony chafed at not being told what that reason was, but it wasn’t as if he could go gallivanting off to DC to play at being a SHIELD operative for a couple of months, no matter how tempting the idea seemed. For one, he would probably make a terrible spy. Also, Pepper would kill him. And then so would the rest of the SI Board of Directors. It seemed Tony would have to settle for keeping close tabs on what Fury was doing with his team in DC from New York.

“And Stark-” Fury’s words interrupted Tony’s reverie and Tony looked up to find Fury smiling slightly, “It won’t be forever. Because you’re right. The Avengers do belong here, with you.”

It wasn’t quite a promise, but for now, it was enough.

\------

In the days leading up to Steve’s departure, Tony avoided him. Well, he wasn’t so much avoiding Steve as he was avoiding saying goodbye to Steve.

Goodbyes weren’t Tony’s forte. They were somehow always too much and not enough. Each goodbye felt like a test he was bound to fail as he stumbled and faltered through finding the right words to make the farewell meaningful and memorable _._ And saying goodbye to Steve felt like the ultimate test.

Tony was fairly sure he was bound to fuck it up spectacularly. Also, the longer he avoided saying goodbye, the longer Tony could avoid thinking about his life without Steve in it.

But of course, Tony couldn’t avoid it forever, and the morning before his official departure to DC, Steve found him. (Of course he did).

Tony was in his official SI office - the office he had never used before and had in fact been unaware existed until he had spent the week looking for new and increasingly creative places to hide from Steve.

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding. I had no idea you even had a real office, but I guess you gotta wear all those nice suits somewhere.”

The familiar, much-loved voice cut through the quiet and Tony looked up to see Steve walking through the door of his office. He looked packed and ready to leave, leather jacket zipped and a duffle bag slung over one shoulder. Tony’s heart flipped and sped up at the sight of him.

Tony grinned. “I didn’t know I had an office either.” He looked around the room, taking in the soothing taupe color scheme, the abstract art prints decorating the walls, and the small, burbling fountain in the corner. “Honestly, I think Pepper uses it as her meditation/yoga room whenever she needs a break from wrangling the rest of the board.” Tony paused thoughtfully, “Or when she needs a break from wrangling me.”

Steve laughed at that, bright and brief, and shrugged the bag off of his shoulder. It hit the floor with a thump.

Tony stood from the desk and rounded it. If this was going to be the last time he saw Steve in person for the foreseeable future, then he wanted to be near him. He walked towards Steve and his nerves sang, demanding Steve’s proximity.

It took all Tony’s willpower to stop mere inches from Steve. The craving to eliminate any distance between them tugged strong and sharp at his stomach.

Steve’s smile slipped and was replaced by an expression of uncertainty. “You weren’t going to say goodbye, were you?”

The hurt in Steve’s eyes felt like a sharp blow to his chest.

Tony looked away and shrugged. “I’m not one for goodbyes… or endings of any sort. It’s nothing personal, Cap.”

“It feels pretty personal when the only person you didn’t say goodbye to is me.” Tony was unable to keep the guilty expression off of his face and Steve snorted. “Yeah, I know all about the new armored bodysuit you gave to Nat and the sonic arrows you finally designed for Clint when you saw them off yesterday.”

“Steve, I-” Tony broke off with a wince, not at all sure where that sentence had been heading.

Steve took a small step closer until the distance between them could be measured in mere centimeters. “What? You didn’t make some sort of high-tech farewell gift for me?” Steve smiled softly, his voice teasing. “How am I supposed to know you’re going to miss me without it? Because I’m going to miss you, Tony.”

Tony took a shaky breath, mesmerized by the warmth in Steve’s eyes.

Steve reached out and his fingers skimmed along Tony’s cheek, leaving sparks of sensation dancing in their wake. Steve was so close Tony could see the flecks of green-gold in his eyes. Steve’s head tilted and Tony stood motionless, helpless to do anything but watch as Steve moved closer. Tony was acutely aware of the distance between them, his atoms seemingly straining for Steve’s touch. Tony’s mind was curiously blank as his gaze focused on Steve’s lips and his own parted unconsciously.

But then, a minute change of direction. The hand at the back of Tony’s head and the hand that had settled on his waist tugged him forward and Steve tucked his head into the crook of Tony’s neck, enfolding him into a hug.

Steve held him close, the clutch of his arms crushing, and Tony embraced him back just as firmly, his hands balled so tightly into the leather of Steve’s jacket they ached. They stood like that for long seconds and Tony raced to memorize how it felt to have Steve in his arms - how warm and solid he felt underneath Tony’s hands and the crisp, earthy scent of him.

“I’m going to come back soon, before you know it,” Steve said, the words whispered into the skin of Tony’s neck and he seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as Tony.

\------

The hole Steve’s departure left in Tony’s life was terrifyingly large.

New York, Avenger’s Tower, and Tony’s apartment all felt startlingly empty without Steve. The ghost of Steve followed Tony as he boxed in the gym, attempted to cook in his kitchen, and worked in his workshop. Without Steve next to him, Tony’s days stretched in front of him, long, bleak, and lonely.

Some days, Tony felt as though the world had tilted and everyone but him had adjusted and learned to keep walking in straight lines while Tony stumbled, his limbs uncooperative and his heart unbalanced.

Tony had never missed anyone this way before. Missing Steve seemed to manifest as a physical ache which lay out of reach right behind his breastbone - one more pain to join the myriad of others in his chest.

\------

They kept in touch (of course they did).

Phone calls came regularly, and Steve also developed a penchant for video calling Tony in the evenings. Steve would prop his tablet up in his tiny kitchen and Tony would have his tablet in the workshop, and as Steve puttered around making dinner and Tony worked, they talked.

And on days when Tony managed to pull together a few free hours, he put on the armor and flew to DC to see Steve in person. Once he was there, Steve usually managed to coax Tony onto the back of his motorcycle and they went exploring - to the tidal basin to walk under the blooming cherry blossoms, to the Smithsonian museums on the mall, or to one of restaurants Tony had discovered during the days he had spent testifying before Congress.

Slowly, the days without Steve slipped into weeks, and then into months, and Tony learned to live with the pain of Steve’s absence.

\------

Tony’s StarkPad rang and he pushed up his visor, switching off his blow torch and accepting the video call with a smile. “Good evening, beloved. What are we making tonight?”

“Hey Tony,” Steve said, looking into the camera with a bright smile before he bent his head and resumed chopping what seemed to be an onion. “I’m making meat sauce from scratch and then pasta.”

“Sound delicious.”

“Is that your dinner?” Steve asked pointing to the bowl of raspberries sitting on Tony’s benchtop.

“Probably,” Tony said blithely, taking the opportunity to pop one into his mouth.

Steve grinned, “I suppose it could be worse.” He paused and then said, “I met someone the other day.”

Tony ignored the tumult those words inspired and arched a brow. “She cute?”

Steve scoffed. “Not like that. His name is Sam. He’s a Vet too - works for the VA now.”

Tony grinned, relieved. “Aw, you made a friend! Steve, I’m so proud. You know what they say about the elderly needing to socialize.”

Steve laughed. “Elderly, huh? Remind me which one of us found a grey hair the other day?”

Tony squawked. “I told you that in confidence, Rogers, and now you’re using it against me! Youth these days, no respect for their betters.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he dumped the onions into a pan with olive oil and began to stir them. After a beat of silence, Steve looked back at camera. His gaze caught Tony’s and his expression turned solemn. “Tony, what exactly do you know about the helicarriers you’re helping SHIELD build?”

That caught Tony’s attention. “Nothing,” Tony said slowly, “Or rather, I don’t know about anything unusual. They’re supposed to be similar to the one used during the battle of New York - mobile bases of operation. Why?”

Steve looked away, his expression troubled. “Fury showed me something the other day and I’ve been thinking about it a lot since then because it doesn’t feel… right. But maybe I don’t know what’s right anymore.”

“Steve, what did he show you? Tell me and I can do a little digging behind the SHIELD firewall, figure out if Fury’s hiding something-”

Steve shook his head sharply, cutting Tony off. “No.” Tony blinked, surprised at the force of the rebuttal and Steve’s expression softened. “I mean, not yet. There’s something going on here, something brewing beneath the surface, and I don’t want to risk-” Steve paused and smiled ruefully, “You. I don’t want to risk you.”

“Steve-”

Steve smiled. “I know, I know. You’re Tony Stark and more than capable of taking care of yourself, but I think we need to… wait and see what happens next.”

This entire conversation was putting Tony on edge, and Steve asking him to sit back and do nothing grated. Patience was not a virtue Tony possessed in any amount. But this was _Steve_ asking.

Tony took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll leave it alone for now. But promise me you’re not going to do anything recklessly stupid down there while I’m sitting safe and sound on my ass in New York.”

Steve grinned at the camera, all boyish charm. “Aw Tony, when have I ever done anything recklessly stupid?”

\------

Tony was in his apartment, curled on the couch and sipping a mug of coffee when his cellphone rang. The number was unlisted and Tony raised a brow, wondering who had managed to get ahold of his personal number. He answered the call.

“Stark.”

“Tony.” Steve - because it was Steve on the other end of the line - breathed his name in a voice full of relief before continuing, “You’re okay.”

“Yes? I’m fine?”

“Good, good,” Steve said on an exhale.

“Steve, what’s happening?” Tony asked.

Steve told him.

The flash drive that had started everything and Fury’s subsequent assassination. SHIELD trying to kill Steve and the drive to New Jersey base where Zola described HYDRA’s return to power from within SHIELD. Sitwell. The Winter Soldier. Fury’s resurrection. And then the most immediate problem: Project Insight - set to launch in a few hours with plans to target Tony, Bruce, and millions of other innocent people also deemed to be threats against “HYDRA and the world.”

“Steve,” Tony said after a beat of stunned silence on his part.

“I know.”

“You _promised_ me, nothing ‘recklessly stupid.’ Those were your exact words, Steve. And then you went and defenestrated yourself out of the tenth story of a building before going toe-to-toe with Terminator-lite. Alright Butch Cassidy, you and the Sundance Kids sit tight. I’m triangulating this call and JARVIS is prepping the armor as we speak-”

“Tony-” Steve said, not sounding properly chastised _at all_.

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes, give or take a few. Do you need anything?”

“ _Tony_ -”

“Are you hydrating properly? Have you eaten? Never mind, I can’t fit anything in the suit anyways. Well, maybe a granola bar or two and some trail mix. Okay, I’ll see you in-”

“Tony!” Steve practically shouted.

“Yes dear?” Tony said, moving the conversation to speaker as he finished pulling on his undersuit and stepped into the waiting armor.

“Tony, you can’t come here.”

“Excuse me,” Tony said after a beat, his voice flat and dangerous, “I must be hallucinating, because for a moment it actually sounded like you were telling me I wasn’t _allowed_ tocome and help you.”

“HYDRA is specifically targeting you Tony and the Iron Man armor isn’t exactly inconspicuous. They’ll shoot you out of the sky on sight the moment you get near DC.”

“Let them try.”

“Tony I can’t lose you. I’ve lost everyone else. It would kill me to lose you,” Steve said, sounding more panicked than Tony had ever heard Steve sound before. And part of Tony wanted to listen, to do what Steve wanted if it meant removing the fear from his voice. But he knew sitting on the sidelines and leaving Steve to the fight wasn’t the right answer here.

“Do you think I could stand losing _you_ , you asshole? Do you know what it would do to me if something happened to you and I was here in New York instead of next to you?”

“You can’t-”

“‘Can’t,’” Tony repeated coldly. “As if I need your goddamn permission. Didn’t we just have this conversation? I can fucking take care of myself - you said so yourself. Screw it. I’m coming and you’ll have to get over it, okay hotshot?”

“No, Tony- Wait-” Steve broke off and took a great shuddering breath. And after a beat of silence - “You’re right,” he said, his voice now calm and controlled

Tony opened his mouth, ready to keep arguing, and then closed it again. “Of course I’m right,” he said warily.

“I shouldn’t be trying to keep you away for… personal reasons. If it was the smart thing to do, you would be right to come and help. But it’s not-”

“Steve-”

“No, Tony, listen. I wasn’t thinking clearly earlier. I gave you my instinctive reason for why you should stay in New York. But the truth is I need you there working with Bruce and JARVIS to try and access the Project Insight helicarriers remotely. Fury says there isn’t a way to stop the launch through the SHIELD network - something about authentication - but if there’s anyone that can figure it out, it’s you. If me, Nat, and Sam don’t shut down the helicarriers manually in time, then you’re the only one that has a chance of stopping this, or at least mitigating the damage as much as possible. And you need to be in Avengers’ Tower to do that most effectively.”

Tony listened to Steve’s rationale and silently cursed because, fuck it all, he was _right_. Just as Steve’s gut reaction had been to keep Tony away, Tony’s automatic reflex had been to go to wherever Steve was, as soon as possible and regardless of the consequences. After a beat of silence, “You’re right,” Tony admitted, grudgingly.

“Of course I’m right,” Steve parroted back, cheeky and obviously relieved Tony was conceding.

Tony couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “You’re right and this plan has the added benefit of achieving your secondary goal of keeping me safe and out of the way in New York. Pretty sneaky, Rogers. I’m reluctantly impressed.”

“No one is going to be safe if Project Insight goes online,” Steve said, his voice weary and they both fell silent at that truth. Tony listened to Steve breathe on the other end of the line.

“I wish you were here,” Steve said after a couple of minutes.

“You literally just finished talking me out of coming to help you,” Tony said, amused in spite of himself.

“I know,” Steve said wryly, “But I still wish you were here.”

“Me too,” Tony replied.

“Tony… there’s something I haven’t told you. The Winter Soldier, he’s-” Steve’s voice cracked, “It’s Bucky. HYDRA must have done something-” Steve’s voice, thick with pain, broke off.

Tony took a moment to process that bombshell.

“Well, shit,” Tony said, which he thought summed up the situation nicely. At least Steve’s earlier desperation to keep Tony away made a little more sense now. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Save him,” Steve said, and, well, easier said than done.

“He’ll kill you and not think twice about it,” Tony said flatly.  
  
“I don’t think so. Bucky’s still in there somewhere. I know he is.”

Tony should have expected that. Steve had unshakable faith in the people he cared about. Tony sighed. “Okay, okay. Then you’ll just have to bring him back and we’ll help him remember who he is.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve breathed.

 _Anything, anything for you_ , Tony thought. But what he said was this, “Alright, JARVIS has updated Bruce and they’re already working on getting into the SHIELD/HYDRA network. They’ll let me know when they need me. In the meantime, put me on speaker and take me to the rest of the merry men. We’ll figure out how exactly you’re getting back into the Triskelion and what to do from there. God knows what plan the lot of you will come up with if left to your own devices.”

“Yes, Tony.” Steve said, sounding amused. “And thank you, again”

“Yeah, yeah. You say that now but we’ll see how thankful you are when I see you after this is all done and punch you right in your perfect teeth for giving me, the guy with a pacemaker, palpitations.”

\------

Fury had been right. It wasn’t possible to bring down the helicarriers through the SHIELD network. Or rather, it wasn’t possible to do it in hours. If he’d had a few days, Tony would have figured it out. Probably.

And so as the timer to Project Insight’s launch ticked down, Tony started putting in place contingency measures that would kick in if, for some reason, Steve failed to place all the chips and manually halt the launch. Potential persons of interest were notified and moved to secure locations. Remotely controlled Iron Man armors were stationed around DC, ready to move in and begin manually firing on the helicarriers if needed. Rhodey was on standby.

As he worked, Tony tried not to think about what putting the contingency measures into action would indicate. Because Tony knew the only thing that would stop Steve from finishing his mission was-

 _No. Don’t even think it. Steve’s going to be fine_ , Tony told himself firmly as he worked.

Then, time ran out.

Tony watched the launch of the helicarriers unfold via his own personal satellite feeds.

He tracked the ascent. 500 feet. 1000. 2000.

Tony watched Wilson dive down to the Triskelion with damaged wings.

2500 feet.

And then, right before reaching 3000 feet, the helicarriers turned and fired on each other. A wave of relief and triumph coursed through Tony and his eyes slipped closed for a moment as he reveled in the victory. Steve had done it.

 _Steve_.

Tony’s eyes snapped opened in horror as dread and panic tore through him in sharp spikes.

“JARVIS, the armor, now!” Tony yelled.

Because Tony hadn’t seen Steve get off the helicarriers. The helicarriers which were now riddled with explosions and crashing towards the Potomac.

And Wilson wasn’t able to go get him.

Minutes, Tony could be there in minutes with the armor. It had to be enough time. Any other possibility was unacceptable.

Then, right as he was about to take off, Tony watched Steve fall, plummeting towards the water and taking Tony’s heart with him.

\------

Two days later, as he was leaving the Hill after another round of pointless testimony on the whole SHIELD/HYDRA debacle, Tony finally received the call he had been waiting for.

“He’s awake,” Wilson said.

At those words, something cracked inside of Tony.

Tony had been relying mostly on anxiety, adrenaline, and coffee to get through the sheer stress of the past few days. It was what had kept Tony going in the aftermath of finding Steve broken, bloody, and unconscious on the banks of the Potomac, when all he had wanted to do was collapse at Steve’s side and refuse to move until Steve opened his eyes again.

“The doc just finished checking on him. He’s going to be fine, Tony,” Sam continued.

Tony took a deep breath and let it out. He felt the sharp anger, cold terror, and unending worry that had been swirling and building inside of him for the past 48 hours finally drain away, leaving blinding relief in their wake. The hand holding his phone trembled and Tony felt as if his entire body was about to shake apart from the abrupt alleviation of his fear.

Tony had been tortured for months in Afghanistan, had watched as his arc reactor was ripped out of chest, and had spent weeks preparing to die from palladium poisoning - but none of those moments could compare to the utter terror of seeing Steve lie unmoving in a hospital bed while being told by doctors, “ _There’s nothing you can do, Mr. Stark_. _Go home and get some sleep Mr. Stark.”_

Tony didn’t think he’d slept at all since finding Steve.

“Good. That’s good,” Tony said.

“He’s asking for you,” Sam said.

For the first time in days, Tony smiled. “Give me 10 minutes.”

\------

Tony hated hospitals. They were bright and too loud and always smelled like a mix of sickness and antiseptic. But then Tony walked into Steve’s room and Steve’s eyes, his beautiful, blue, _open_ eyes fixed on him. Tony knew then there was nowhere on earth he would rather be than in this hospital room. Steve’s face was bruised and covered in still healing gashes, but his smile was blinding and Tony’s knees felt dangerously weak.

“Tony,” he breathed out.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave,” Sam said and Tony’s eyes snapped to him. He hadn’t even noticed Wilson was still in the room.

Tony opened his mouth to say something, but Wilson was already at the door, slipping out and closing it behind him, leaving Steve and Tony alone.

Tony turned back to Steve, drinking in the sight of him. Tony had spent as little time as possible here while Steve was unconscious, unable to bear the sight of Steve so lifeless. Now Tony took his time looking, reveling in the pleasure of having Steve safe and (mostly) whole. And then, abruptly, Tony was completely and utterly furious.

He strode over until he was standing right beside Steve’s bed and hissed, “Are you kidding me?” He pitched his voice in an approximation of Steve’s “aw shucks” Brooklyn accent, “Everything’s going to be fine, Tony. You don’t need to get in your indestructible armor and come help, Tony - we’ve got this. The legendary assassin isn’t really going to hurt me, Tony.” Tony switched back to his normal voice, “I swear to God Steve, I’m tempted to finish you off myself. Of all the unbelievably idiotic, insane stunts - I could throttle-”

For some reason, Steve was still smiling. He reached out and snagged Tony’s hand, clasping it his own. Tony’s tirade stumbled to halt as stared at their intertwined fingers in shock. Steve’s hand was warm and solid in his and Tony was acutely aware of each millimeter of skin where he and Steve were touching.

Then Steve tugged Tony forward and the next thing Tony knew, he was all but collapsing on the hospital bed next to Steve and clutching him in a tight, perfect hug.

“It’s good to see you too, Tony,” Steve murmured as his hand stroked across Tony’s back, the touch making Tony shiver.  
  
“I’m still mad at you,” Tony said, mostly into Steve’s chest. “I’m going to build five fucking parachutes into your next Cap suit. Not bulky ones, so don’t worry, the suit will still flatter your girlish figure, but there will be at least five.”

Steve laughed at that and the sound spread warmth through Tony’s chest, chasing away the final tendrils of icy fear. Then Steve’s hand paused in its stroking of Tony’s back and he asked, laughter still tinging his voice, “Is that a teddy bear?”

Tony sat up, pulling himself out of Steve’s arms. “No,” Tony denied in spite of the fact that he was indeed clutching a stuffed bear with _“get well beary soon”_ written on its stomach in one hand.

Steve grinned. “It is a teddy bear! Is it for me?”

“No,” Tony repeated, “After I’m done with you, I’m going to go visit my favorite hospital patient - who has never jumped off something of an inappropriate height, I might add - and the bear is for them. Not you.”

“Give me my bear, I want it,” Steve said, making a grab for it, and after a brief tussle which Tony definitely let Steve win because Steve was an invalid, Tony begrudgingly relinquished the bear. Steve settled the bear next to him on the bed and then waved a hand around the room. “I assume I can thank you for all the flowers as well?”

Tony winced. There were _a lot_ of flowers in the room. Whenever Tony had felt guilty about not sitting being at Steve’s bedside waiting for him to wake up, he had ordered a new bouquet to be delivered. There were _a lot_ of bouquets _._ “Maybe,” he said. At least they made the room smell nice.

“And?” Steve asked, looking expectant.

“And they’re delivering a four-foot-tall version of the teddy bear later today along with balloons,” Tony conceded.

Steve threw back his head and laughed again. “Thank you, Tony. For the flowers and my bear.”

“Whatever,” Tony muttered, hoping the conversation was going to move on from this subject as quickly as possible.

After a moment, Steve’s smile faded and he asked, “How are things with SHIELD? With the cleanup? Sam was telling me about it before he left - you and Nat have already been called in front of Congress? I’m sorry Tony. It should be me testifying. I was the one that sunk the helicarriers - you weren’t even involved really-”

Tony briefly pressed a finger against Steve’s lips, stemming the tide of his words. “Steve, it’s fine. The cleanup is going well - SI is on it - and Hill and I are already making decent headway sorting through the remnants of SHIELD, figuring out who we can and cannot trust and all that. And please worry the least about Congress. They’re not going to do anything; they don’t want to piss us off. They’re all idiots and Nat is this close to telling the lot of them to go fuck themselves. In fact, she might be doing it as we speak.”

“But-”

“Steve, _it’s fine_.”

Steve opened his mouth, looking like he was going to keep arguing, before apparently deciding otherwise, closing it, and settling back against his pillows. After a moment, his expression still serious, he asked, “Without SHIELD, how is there going to be an Avengers?”

Tony grinned. “Well, what’s the point of being a billionaire if I can’t do whatever the hell I want with the money? Pepper tells me there’s enough for me to use to fund ‘whatever superhero shenanigans’ I want to.

“This fight isn’t over, Steve. We’re going to have to deal with the remnants of HYDRA. A new ‘supervillain’ or three seem to emerge every other month. And then there’s what’s up there, beyond earth. The Chitauri were the first ones to come but you can be damn sure they won’t be the last and we’ll need to be ready when it happens. I’m going to make sure we’re ready when it happens. The Avengers aren’t going anywhere.”

Steve smiled back. “Well, I’m currently out of a job and my apartment here is covered in bullet holes and blood. You hiring?”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Do you have a resume on hand?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Tony.”

“Just kidding, Cap. You’ll be team leader and I’ll pay for everything, design everything, and make everyone look cool.”

Steve reached out to take Tony’s hand again and squeeze. “Sounds like a plan. Although your role sounds a lot like ‘co-leader’ to me.”

Tony blinked in surprise at the... declaration? Offer?

“Something to think about,” Steve said. He didn’t let go of Tony’s hand and his thumb stroked idly along Tony’s knuckles. “Tony, do you know what happened to Bucky? He’s the one who pulled me out of the water, right?”

Tony nodded. “I’m pretty sure. But by the time I got there, it was just you lying on the bank. There was a set of footprints leading away from you, but between getting you to the hospital and going back to look for the trail, it disappeared. Steve - I’m not sure he wants to be found.”

“He’s my family Tony, I’m not giving up on him.” Steve said, his jaw already stubbornly set.

Tony nodded. “Then we’ll find him,” he said. If this was what Steve wanted, then Tony was going to do everything possible to make it happen. It was that simple.

Something flashed in Steve’s eyes - pain? regret? - before he briefly closed them. “Okay,” he said before opening his eyes again and looking at Tony, a soft smile curving his lips. “Okay. Let’s go home.”

\------

By the end of the week, Steve and Tony were back in New York, along with Sam. Bruce, Rhodey, and Thor - who had returned to Earth in the days after SHIELD’s collapsed - were waiting to welcome them back.

Natasha vanished for a few days and then returned, Clint in tow - retrieved from wherever he had been on a SHIELD mission, somewhere halfway around the world and classified. With the two of them back, the Avengers were finally officially re-assembled.

Everything was good. Everything was _fine._ Well, everything except for the fact that Steve seemed to be avoiding Tony.

It took a few days for Tony to notice, but once he did, it was obvious. Steve no longer sought Tony out his workshop and there were no more evenings spent together in Tony’s apartment. And the one time Tony ran into Steve in the communal Avengers’ media room, Steve practically fled after only a few minutes of stilted conversation. After that, Steve seemed to spend the majority of his time alone in his apartment or, when it was the middle of the night and sure to be empty, in the gym with only his heavy bag for company.

It felt like the worst kind of deja vu. Tony hadn’t seen Steve this withdrawn and lost since his first few weeks back in New York after the battle with the Chitauri and it hurt something deep inside of Tony to see Steve like this again. All he wanted to do was make it better and see Steve smile again.

Bucky. It had to be Bucky.

Tony already had JARVIS looking for him - scanning cameras and satellites worldwide for his face - as well as looking for any spending or movement patterns that might give an idea of Bucky’s location. But Steve was probably worrying about what would happen when they found him. So Tony started making preparations - meeting with the best defense attorneys money could buy to begin laying the groundwork for potential extradition and pardons, designing the first schematics for what he could build to help Bucky with HYDRA’s brainwashing - and then, once Tony had some semblance of a strategy, he confronted Steve.

If Steve wasn’t going to come to him, he would go to Steve. So Tony knocked on the door to Steve’s apartment and was let in by a bewildered, pajama-clad Steve.

Tony glanced at the clock. And, okay, it was 12:37 AM. Steve was probably justified in being confused, but Tony had been working practically non-stop on the Bucky/Winter Soldier situation for the past 72 hours and he couldn’t wait any longer to share his ideas with Steve.

He laid out his plan. “See? It’s going to be okay, Steve,” Tony said, “Whatever he needs, whatever it takes, I’ll make it happen.”

Steve’s face fell and Tony tilted his head, confused. Steve swallowed heavily and then he spoke, his voice raspy, “Tony, there’s something I have to tell you. It’s about your parents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up a month late with starbucks* HI FRIENDS! I am terribly sorry this chapter is so overdue. For some reason, I found it incredibly difficult to write, probably because I viewed it as more of a filler chapter - a chapter where not a ton happens but that was necessary to get us to the next major plot point. Also, re: the events of CA:TWS - I know I could have inserted Tony into the plot of that a lot more, but I didn’t want to go down the path of rewriting the entire movie, so I tried to keep things as canon as possible. Finally, the next chapter starts where I’m going to fully diverge from canon. As a reminder, no A:AOU or CA:CW will be happening.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, leaving kudos and commenting! I promise that the next chapter won’t take me another month to write!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Description of a panic attack.

“Tony, there’s something I have to tell you. It’s about your parents.”

Tony stared at Steve, thrown by the change in subject. “My parents?” he asked.

Steve looked away from him, his mouth twisted in an unhappy frown. He then closed his eyes briefly, squared his shoulders, and locked his jaw before looking back and meeting Tony’s gaze. The expression on his face was the same as the one he wore before a battle - all softness replaced with implacable determination.

A dark, anxious swirl of dread began to coil and twist in Tony’s gut. “What about my parents, Steve?” he asked, trying - and mostly failing - to keep his voice calm and level.

Steve started talking. His words came quickly, practically tripping over themselves. “You remember how the flash drive led me and Natasha to Camp Lehigh? And how once we were there, Zola - or the computerized version of him - bragged about the rise of HYDRA within SHIELD-”

Tony didn’t want to hear this. He couldn’t stand here and listen to backstory as the rising tide of his panic threatened to drown him. Tony cut Steve off. “Steve, just tell me,” he pleaded.

Steve broke off speaking and nodded tightly, his mouth pressed in a hard, thin line. He took a breath and appeared to gather himself before continuing. “It wasn’t an accident, Tony. The car crash that killed Howard and Maria. It was HYDRA.”

Tony’s mind went blank. He blinked once and then again. “Not an accident,” he stated numbly as the reality of Steve’s words slammed into him. His breath seized in his throat and he gasped, “Not an accident.”

And then Tony’s next breath refused to come. It was stuck in his chest. It’s jagged edges tore at his lungs as he fought to get out it. The edges of his vision blurred and darkened and sound faded until all Tony could hear was the slamming of his racing heartbeat.

He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to die.

“Tony… Tony… _Tony_.”

A voice broke through darkness surrounding Tony as someone pulled Tony close. Tony’s hands were caught and placed on a surface - a surface that seemed to move steadily up and down. Someone’s hand landed on Tony’s chest and the voice spoke again, this time gentle and smooth.

“Breathe Tony _,_ you have to breathe. Come on, you can do it. Breathe with me. In, out, in, out.”

Tony focused on words and on the chest moving beneath his hands and the next time the voice spoke (“ _In_ ”) he managed to suck in a quick, shuddering gasp of air.

“There you go,” the voice said, “Now out and one more time. That’s it.”

Tony breathed and slowly the world around him began to resolve itself again. As his vision swam back into focus, all Tony could see was Steve. Because of course, the voice belonged to Steve. Steve, who held Tony close as they breathed in tandem. When Tony’s eyes finally focused fully on Steve, Steve huffed out a quick sigh of relief.

“There you are,” Steve murmured with a small smile, and the hand that had been resting on Tony’s chest trailed upwards to cup his cheek.

“They were murdered,” Tony murmured and Steve’s face crumpled. “My parents were murdered,” Tony repeated and his hands curled into the material of Steve’s shirt, clenching into fists.

“Tony, I’m so sorry,” Steve said as he pulled Tony closer.

Steve enfolded Tony in a tight embrace and Tony let him, because as his panic receded, all that was left was pain - pain from the never healed wound of his parents’ deaths. Steve’s revelation had ripped that wound wide open again and Tony felt as raw, lost, and grief-stricken as he had been at 21 when he had heard the news of his parents’ deaths for the first time.

His eyes burned with pain from unshed tears and Tony closed them as he fought against anguish threatening to drown him.

Steve held him close and for a moment, Tony felt as if Steve was the only thing keeping him upright. That if Steve weren’t holding him, Tony would simply collapse; fall to his knees under the weight of the truth of what had happened to his mom and dad. Amidst a roiling sea of hurt, Steve was an island of steady land.

“I’m sorry, Tony, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you- I couldn’t tell you-” Steve said, his voice heavy and stumbling with guilt.

Tony opened his eyes, his brows furrowed. Why would Steve feel guilty about this? Or rather, why would Steve feel guilty enough about the revelation of how his parents died to want to avoid telling Tony? Was this why Steve had spent the last week avoiding him? It didn’t make sense. These days, Steve rarely hid anything from him.

The questions came thick and fast and Tony’s desperate mind latched onto them, thankful to be thinking about the puzzle Steve’s actions presented rather than imagining what HYDRA had done to his parents.

Tony pulled backwards and lifted his head to meet Steve’s eyes. “Why couldn’t you tell me?” he asked.

Steve opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He then closed it again and looked at Tony, his expression broken and miserable.

Tony tilted his head to the side and studied Steve. What had he and Steve been talking about before Steve had dropped the bombshell about his parents? Bucky. They had been talking about Bucky. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier.

And in between one indrawn breath and the next, everything snapped into place.

Tony’s world splintered apart.

Tony pushed out of Steve’s arms, hard, and Steve, surprised by the sudden movement stumbled backwards.

“It was Barnes, wasn’t it,” Tony accused and Steve’s pained grimace spoke for itself.

“He murdered my parents and you let me-” Tony broke off, feeling like he would be sick, “And you let me go on and on about how I would find him, help him, _pardon him._ ” Tony spat out the last two words. Anger kindled inside him and quickly turned to white-hot rage.

“Tony-” Steve interjected, his voice pleading.

“Don’t-” Tony hissed, “You’ve spent the past week _lying_ to me.”

“I didn’t _lie_ \- I just couldn’t figure out how to tell- Tony, I was afraid if I told you, you would-” Steve broke off, frustrated.

Tony stilled at Steve’s words. “You were afraid I would what?” Tony asked, his voice dangerously quiet. “You were afraid I would do something to hurt your precious Bucky?”

“Yes!” Steve snapped, his eyes bright and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Then his shoulders slumped and he ran a shaky hand over his face. “Okay, yes. I was worried if I told you, you would do something rash - something you would end up regretting.”

Tony didn’t know what to do with grief. But this - fury and vengeance - that was easy. Tony’s grief didn’t have subject, his anger did.

Tony smiled and it was a cruel, mocking thing. “Oh I don’t think I’m going to regret it,” he said. Tony turned, ready to leave (ready to go and _do_ something) but Steve caught him by the arm and pulled Tony to a stop.

Tony’s anger flared bright as he rounded on Steve and yanked his arm out of Steve’s grip. “What?” he snarled.

Steve’s expression was grim yet determined. “What are you going to do to him if you find him? Hurt him?”

Tony crossed his arms and looked away, staying silent.

“Are you going to kill him, Tony?” Steve prompted.

Tony pressed his lips together.

“Are you going to be judge, jury, and executioner?” Steve demanded.

He looked at Tony expectantly and Tony couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take being _lectured_ by Steve right now. Steve who had not only lied to him, but lied to protect the man who had made Tony an orphan.

“I guess we’ll find out!” Tony snapped and Steve’s face fell, his expression morphing into something like panic.

“Tony, please, you need to calm down. 30 minutes ago you were going to help Bucky knowing exactly who he was and the things he’d done. Nothing’s changed. You know what he’s been through. He’s HYDRA’s victim, just like your parents. Please, Tony. You need to _think_ -” Steve ran an agitated hand through his hair, making it stand on end.

Tony didn’t want to think and he didn’t want to talk. He wanted to act. He wanted to do something (anything) to ease the yawning chasm of anguish inside of him - a chasm that only grew with each word Steve in spoke in Barnes’ defense.

“He killed my mom!” Tony yelled. “He killed my mom, Steve,” Tony repeated, quieter this time.

“Tony, you’re not-” Steve began, still sounding panicked, before he stopped and seemingly changed track. “Promise me you won’t hurt him. I can’t let you leave until you promise,” he said.

Unease swirled low and heavy in Tony’s stomach. “Or what?” Tony challenged.

“Tony, don’t, please,” Steve said, his voice weary and his eyes over-bright.

“Or what, Rogers,” Tony repeated.

“I’ll have to stop you,” Steve said, sounding defeated, and with those six words, Tony’s heart broke.

“So that’s that, huh,” Tony said with a bitter laugh, “You’re choosing him over me?”

Steve blinked, clearly surprised. His expression then morphed to one of dismay as he processed Tony’s words. “I’m not, Tony,” Steve pled, “I don’t see it that way. I’m just trying to do what’s right. He’s my friend.”

“So am I,” Tony said.

_Believe me, choose me, stay with me_ begged the voice inside Tony’s head.

“You’re better than this, Tony - better than pointless revenge and hate. Please,” Steve implored.

Tony couldn’t do this anymore. Too many thoughts and feelings were clamoring for space in his head, pounding at his temples. He turned away from Steve, desperate to hide his burning eyes and unsteady breathing. Tony couldn’t stay here and listen to Steve beg on Barnes’ behalf, not when each word Steve spoke was an ice-cold shard that only served to shatter Tony’s heart into smaller and smaller pieces.

Barnes, who was the most important person in Steve’s life.

Barnes, who Steve obviously loved.

“Not today I’m not,” Tony said and left.

\-------

On the first day, Steve left voicemails.

\-------

[ _Message left at 11:32 AM._ ]

[ _Beep._ ]

“Shit. I hoped- well; I hoped you would pick up. Until the last ring, I thought you might. I know, I know, I shouldn’t- but, well there it is. Oh, it’s Steve. Obviously. You probably knew that. _Fuck._ I knew I should have written this out before-”

[ _Beep._ ]

[ _End of Message._ ]

 

[ _Message left at 11:46 AM._ ]

[ _Beep._ ]

“Hi Tony. It’s Steve. I tried writing it out, but I kept going in circles. I wish you would pick up. I wish you would answer your door. Yeah, that was me that wouldn’t stop knocking this morning… And that was me yelling. Sorry about the yelling. Actually, no, I’m not sorry about the yelling. I wish you would fucking _talk_ to me, Tony! You want to know why I didn’t tell you about your parents right away? This. This is why. I know you would shut down on me. I knew this would fucking happen. Pick up the phone, Tony!”

[ _Beep._ ]

[ _End of Message._ ]

 

[ _Message left at 11:51 AM._ ]

[ _Beep._ ]

“Fuck Tony, delete that last message. I mean it. Don’t listen to it, just fucking delete it. I yelled. Again. And I shouldn’t have. I’m- so sorry, Tony. Sorry for yelling and sorry for not telling you about your parents right away and sorry for screwing up how I told you. I knew it was wrong to keep it from you for as long as I did, but I did it because I was terrified - terrified that when I told you, you would hate me. So I put it off and avoided planning the best way to do it. But then you were standing in front of me, being so wonderful and so _you_ about helping Bucky and I knew I couldn’t keep it from you any longer. So I told you and I’m still terrified you hate me.

“You like to tease me about it. About never backing down from a situation no matter how bad the odds look - about never being scared. But that’s not true. I get scared a lot except usually, it doesn’t stop me from doing what needs to be done. But this time it did. The thought of you never talking to me again was - is - the most scared I’ve ever been. So- _please._ Please pick up the phone. Please open the door.”

[ _Beep._ ]

[ _End of Message._ ]

\-------

On the second day, Steve sent a letter.

\-------

Dear Tony,

I’m hoping a letter will go smoother than the voicemails. I’m also hoping curiosity will get the best of you (it usually does) and you’ll read this letter without ripping it to pieces first.

I’m sorry about your parents, Tony.

I don’t think I told you that and I hate that I didn’t tell you.

I’m sorry they were taken from you when you were so young and that you had to grow up alone and all too quickly. I’m sorry you never got a chance to tell them goodbye. I know what losing a parent feels like. It’s a grief that never leaves you and never gets better and I grieve with you.

I’m sorry for not telling you right away.

I’m sorry I made you think I care about Bucky more than I care about you.

It’s not true. It will never be true. And I know it’s not an excuse, but I did and said what I did and said because I was trying to protect you - both of you. He’s my family but so are you. I was - I am - desperate to keep you both safe. Obviously, I screwed that up.

I’m sorry for it all, but mostly, I’m sorry that what I did made you push me away. The last thing I wanted was for you to have deal with the knowledge of what happened to Howard and Maria on your own, but that’s exactly what happened.

I wish I could be there for you.

When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here, waiting.

I hope you’ll be able to forgive me. I don’t think I could bear it if you didn’t

I miss you.

Yours,  
Steve

\-------

“ _Please_ ” Steve kept saying, “ _I’m sorry._ ” Steve never said please. Steve never begged.

\-------

On the third day, Steve tried getting into the workshop again and when JARVIS politely but firmly denied him access, he nodded, turned around, and left.

Tony watched him leave and instead of feeling relieved, he mostly felt miserable.

Then, a few minutes later, Steve re-appeared on the hallway video feed, this time holding a cushion and a book. Steve dropped the cushion on the floor opposite the workshop’s door, sat down on it, and opened his book.

After a moment, Steve looked straight into the camera. Tony jumped before he remembered Steve couldn’t see him.

“I know you’re watching, Tony.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open.

“I know you’re watching,” Steve continued, “And like I said in my letter, when you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.” Steve’s mouth quirked into a small smile, “Also, you’re going to have to leave the workshop eventually. I’m pretty sure you only have a couple days’ worth of food in there. So I’ll see you soon, Tony.”

\-------

When the door to Tony’s workshop opened, he half expected to see Steve. His heart flipped and sped up for a moment before he remembered it _couldn’t_ be Steve.

After all, Tony had revoked Steve’s access to both Tony’s personal floor and his workshop.

Temporarily? Indefinitely?

Tony didn’t know anymore.

But it wasn’t Steve (no, Steve was sitting on the floor outside of Tony’s workshop - the same place he had been for most of the past three days) and Tony’s chest throbbed with a dull pain as he watched Natasha stride into the workshop.

She took in Tony with a long, silent look. Her gaze seemed to linger first on the dark circles under his eyes and then on the multiple bandages covering the burns and nicks decorating his hands.

Tony wanted to curl his hands behind his back and hide the mementos of his distraction and grief from Natasha’s piercing gaze. Instead, he defiantly left them on benchtop. _Let her see._

Natasha didn’t say anything. Instead, she crossed the room and dragged a stool over to the other side of the benchtop where Tony was ostensibly working and settled herself gracefully onto it, her legs crossed and her hands delicately folded in her lap. Natasha remained silent as she continued to observe Tony, her gaze heavy. After a long, uncomfortable moment of staring back, Tony jerked his eyes away.

Tony looked back at the gauntlet lying on the benchtop, but his thoughts were distracted and scattered - just as they had been for the past week.

Another minute of oppressive silence and Tony broke. “Are you here to plead Steve’s case?” he asked and the words came out harsher than he meant them to.

“No,” Natasha said, “I’m here to plead mine.”

Surprised, Tony looked back up, but Natasha didn’t elaborate further.

After a moment, Natasha’s gaze softened and she asked, “How are you feeling, Tony?”

The question caught Tony off guard and so when he answered, he answered with the honest, aching truth. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Are you mad at Steve?”

“Yes,” Tony said, because he was.

“Because he didn’t tell you right away?”

“No. Because he cho-” Tony cut off speaking and shook his head.

Natasha hummed. “Because he chose Barnes. That’s what you were going to say, right? You think if it came down to it, he would choose Bucky over you and over the rest of the Avengers.”

“I know he would,” Tony said, forcing the admission out even though it felt like broken glass in his mouth.

“Tony, when he’s not personally annihilating yet another heavy bag in the gym, Steve spends most of his day sitting on the floor outside of this workshop in the hopes of either catching you leaving or wearing you down so you’ll let him back in.”

Tony shrugged. “So?”

“ _So_ he’s here, Tony. Even though he knows you’re looking for Bucky and might hurt him if you find him first, he’s hasn’t left to go look for Bucky himself. Steve’s here in this tower and he’s waiting.” Natasha paused and Tony turned his head sharply in negation, but Natasha continued to speak. “He’s waiting for you. He’s chosen you.”

Tony didn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it. Steve loved Bucky. He was Steve’s family and Tony was- well, on a good day, Tony was Steve’s friend. Only his friend and his teammate. It wasn’t _possible_ that Steve would chose him.

“He hasn’t,” Tony denied, his voice hoarse.

_But what if he has?_ whispered the insidious voice of hope in his head. _Why is he still here?_

Natasha sighed. “What are you going to do when you find Barnes?” she asked, apparently switching tracks. “Are you going to kill him? Are you going to turn him over to the government? Are you going to let him be sentenced for crimes he doesn’t remember committing?”

Tony closed his eyes. He wished people would stop asking him that. He didn’t _know_. Everything was tangled and confused. “He murdered my parents, Tasha.” It was the only thing he knew for sure, the one thread of this twisted tapestry he saw with any clarity.

Tony expected denials and excuses. For Natasha to say it wasn’t Barnes, but HYDRA that had killed them. For her to press her advantage and use his guilt to strong-arm him into begrudging forgiveness. But she didn’t. Instead, she reached forward to lay her hand on top of Tony’s and squeezed it gently.

“I know,” she said, her voice achingly gentle, “I know he did.”

Tony looked at her hand on his and blinked rapidly to dispel the stinging in his eyes. He took a shaky breath and flipped his hand over so he could squeeze her hand back in silent thanks before withdrawing.

After a moment of quiet, Natasha spoke again. “Did Steve tell you that I’d met him before Washington? The Winter Soldier, I mean.”

Tony snorted. “No. But I’m sure he was just as charming the first time as he was the second time.”

Natasha smiled at him. It was small and wry, barely a quirk of her lips. “Pretty much,” she said before her smile slipped away. “It was 2009 and I was assigned to protect a prominent government nuclear scientist who had been receiving threats. Apparently, HYDRA wanted him too. The Winter Soldier ambushed us while we were traveling. He sent the car we were in over a cliff, but I managed to get us out in time. The scientist was behind me and the Winter Soldier knew he would have to go through me to get to him. And so we fought. Two assassins going head-to-head in hand-to-hand.”

Natasha’s gaze was unfocused and far away as she told the story and Tony listened, captivated.

“He wasn’t wearing a glove, you know - on the hand that isn’t metal,” Natasha said, “And at one point, he grabbed me by the throat with that hand. His bare hand on my bare throat.”

Abruptly, Tony knew what Natasha would say next. _No way,_ he thought, _Holy fucking shit_ -

“One touch and the air between us turned blue. And just for a second, I froze as I stared down at the soul-light burning in each of our chests. Of course, one second of distraction on my part was all the Winter Soldier needed to draw his gun and shoot. His eyes were blank as he pressed the barrel of the gun against my stomach. With his hand tight around my throat and our soul-bond shining between us, he shot the gun. The bullet went through me and hit the scientist behind me in the chest, killing him instantly.

“He let go of my throat and I fell to the ground. I lay there in a growing pool of my own blood and watched him walk away without a second look back. But as my vision blurred and unconsciousness drifted closer, the last coherent thought I remember having was that I would do almost anything - up to and including getting shot again - to see my soul-light one more time.

“I’ve spent years alternating between searching for every bit of information I could find about the Winter Soldier and vowing I would never seek him out again. Then DC happened and I learned he had a name. I learned there’s another person in there besides the Winter Soldier. Tony, after five years, I finally know who my soulmate is. I know what he looks like. I know what was done to him. And I know there might be a way to get him back.”

Natasha finished speaking and her expression was fierce and determined. Her eyes were intent and they pinned Tony in place.

“You came to plead your case,” Tony said dazedly. “Because the Winter Soldier - Bucky Barnes - who is Steve’s not-so-dead best friend, is also your soulmate.”

“Yes.”

“ _Holy fucking shit_ ,” Tony said.

“I still have the scar,” Natasha said conversationally, as if she hadn’t just dropped the second biggest bombshell of the past week into Tony’s lap, “Keeps me from wearing bikinis.”

Tony scoffed, “Yeah, I’m sure you look awful in bikinis. Absolutely hideous.”

Natasha tilted her head the side and eyed Tony speculatively. “You know, Steve said practically the exact same thing when I told him.”

Tony drew in breath. “Steve knows?”

Natasha shook her head sharply. “He knows I’d met the Winter Soldier before DC. He doesn’t know he’s my soulmate. No one knows he’s soulmate - not even SHIELD. Do you think I would have trusted anyone with that information?” she asked and Tony understood what she meant.

Because _goddamn._ If Natasha had told someone in SHIELD - SHIELD which was a shell for HYDRA, the Winter Soldier’s handlers - she would likely be dead by now, killed by HYDRA to preserve the secrecy and integrity of their asset. The knowledge of who Barnes was to Natasha was dangerous. _Extremely_ dangerous. And yet here Natasha was, telling Tony - _trusting_ him.

Fuck.

_Fuck_.

“Have you forgiven him?” Tony asked, “For shooting you?”

“Yes.”

“Would you have forgiven him if he had shot - and killed - Barton?” he asked because it was the closest parallel he could think of - Natasha and Clint were as good as family.

Natasha sighed. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

Tony nodded. “But you’re asking me to forgive him.” He said it without rancor because part of him understood. Bucky was Natasha’s _soulmate_ and Tony had spent too many years yearning for a soulmate of his own not to understand what that meant.

“Yes. It’s selfish and unfair and possibly the worst thing I could ask you, but I’m asking anyway,” Natashas said because that was simply what you did for your soulmate - you fought for them even as Rome burned.

“What about DC?” Tony asked, more curious than anything (he was fairly positive he knew what Natasha’s answer would to be), “You seemed ready to kill him then.”

“I wasn’t.” Natasha’s answer was quick, given without hesitation. “If push came to shove, I don’t think I would have been able to do it. Also, that was before. Before I had a name to call him by. Before I knew someone was buried underneath the Winter Soldier, desperate to get out.” Natasha paused and her gaze bored into Tony’s. “Before I knew you could help him be himself again. Because you can, right? You have something that will help.”

Natasha’s words punched the breath out of Tony. Her resolve made him ache. It was clear Natasha would do anything for Bucky, fight tooth and nail to help him, and Tony wanted that. He wanted someone who would fight like that for him. No. That wasn’t even true anymore. Tony didn’t want a random someone. Tony wanted Steve. He wanted Steve to fight like that for _him_.

Tony thought of Steve’s letter. The “ _yours”_ at the end that Tony had been unable to stop tracing with his finger. Tony thought of Steve sitting outside his door, patiently waiting for Tony to come out and talk to him.

“Yes,” Tony said, thinking of his half-finished schematic for BARF, “I have something that will help.”

“And will you?” It wasn’t a demand; it was a plea. Somehow that was even worse.

Tony closed his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered.

\-------

Two days later (when he felt as emotionally stable as he was going to get), Tony left the workshop. Steve was of course sitting right outside the door and as soon as he saw Tony, his eyes went comically wide.

Steve scrambled to his feet. “Tony,” he breathed.

Steve’s expression was a mix of shocked joy and fragile hope and at the sight of it, what remained of Tony’s anger shattered and fell away. Tony was glad to see it go. He didn’t want to be angry and heartbroken anymore.

Tony arched a brow at Steve. “You know, the workshop has multiple exits, so this,” he said, waving a hand at Steve’s sad little cushion and pile of books, “not the best tactical decision you’ve ever made, Rogers.”  
Steve smiled - tentative, but genuine - and shrugged. “Well, you’re here and talking to me, so I think it worked out okay.”

Tony fought against his automatic impulse to smile back. Not yet.

“You lied to me,” Tony said. And even though he wasn’t angry anymore, the truth of it still hurt.

For a moment, Steve looked like he wanted to argue. He then closed his eyes and simply said, “Yes. I thought- well, I suppose I was trying to spare you, but I was really sparing myself. And it was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Hearing the words said out loud helped and it made Tony’s own words come easier. “I forgive you,” he said and as he said it, Tony knew it was true.

Steve’s eyes snapped open. “What?” he asked, soft and disbelieving.

“I forgive you,” Tony repeated before pausing. The next words were harder say, but they needed to be said. “And I’ll still help you find him. And I’ll help him get better.”

“Tony,” Steve said and he sounded awestruck, “ _Thank you._ ”

Tony coughed and looked away, uncomfortable with naked gratitude - and affection? - in Steve’s expression. Because sure, he was doing this for Steve (and Natasha), but he didn’t want it to be that glaringly obvious. At this rate, he might as well get “Hi, I’m Tony Stark and I’m in love with Steve Rogers” tattooed on his goddamn forehead.

“Yeah, well, it looks like BARF - that stands for Binarily Augmented Retro Framing - will have the world’s roughest beta-testing. But hey, if it can fix a brain-washed super soldier assassin, then it can do anything. Maybe we should make all the Avenger’s take it for a spin. I mean, Thor probably has some deeply repressed trauma, right? Nobody’s actually that happy. And then there’s Bruce, who-”

Steve, thankfully, chose that moment to cut off Tony’s rambling. “Tony, honestly, thank you. It means… everything to me that you’ll help. I couldn’t face this alone and I wouldn’t want to.”

Tony nodded and silence fell between them.

“Will we be okay, Tony?” Steve asked after a moment, sounding unbearably vulnerable.

Part of Tony wanted to deny Steve the answer he clearly desperately wanted, but he knew he couldn’t. Because no matter how or furious or upset he had been with Steve since their fight, Tony had never stopped loving him. That was what being in love meant, Tony supposed. It was both beautiful and horrible, the thought that no matter what Steve did, Tony would still love him.

“Yes. We’re going to be okay,” Tony promised.

“Oh thank God” Steve said looking so relieved and happy that Tony felt his heart skip a beat.

Fuck. Tony was so gone for Steve it bordered on ridiculous, but it was loving Steve that finally gave him the courage to ask the question that had been stuck inside him for the past week. “Steve, will you help me do something?”

\-------

JARVIS was the one who had found the recording. It was there, among the millions of SHIELD/HYDRA files uploaded by Natasha from the Triskelion. It had been in a hidden file and heavily encrypted, but there to find if you knew what to look for.

JARVIS found it approximately 16 hours after Tony and Steve’s argument.

“December 16, 1991” it said on the screen and Tony knew that date. He felt like he was going to throw up.

The video footage started. Tony knew that road. He had driven it countless times in the years since his parent’s deaths, desperately looking for answers. Answers he had never found. Answers that were now in front of him.

But before anything could happen on screen, Tony called out frantically, “Off! Turn it off, JARVIS! Now!”

Tony’s breaths came too quickly and again, he felt as if he stood on the precipice of a cliff where one wrong step would send him tumbling down. And this time, nobody was there to help talk him away from the edge. Tony couldn’t do this right now.

Over the next few days, Tony repeatedly tried to watch the footage. He needed to watch it. He needed to _know._ But each time, he had to stop after the first few seconds. No matter how desperately he wanted to (to be strong enough to), Tony couldn’t face this alone.

\-------

Steve held him as he watched the tape. Steve held him as cried.

Tony hadn’t cried when his parents first died. The initial shock had been so overwhelming there simply hadn’t been room for grief. And then, mere days after Howard’s and Maria’s deaths, Tony had taken on the full duties of Stark Industries’ CEO. Stabilizing the company and learning to live up to Howard’s legacy simply hadn’t left any time for tears. “ _Starks don’t cry_ ,” Obadiah had reminded him, sounding proud of Tony’s restraint.

But now, watching his parents’ deaths play out on the screen in front of him in horrendous detail, Tony finally allowed himself to cry for them. It felt good to cry and Steve held him close as he did, Tony’s face tucked into the crook of his neck as Steve’s hand stroked along his back.

Here, in Steve’s arms, Tony’s anguish felt marginally more bearable. After all, he wasn’t bearing it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone!! Thank you for being so patient in waiting for this update. To make a long story short, I was dealing with both starting a new job and some health problems and wasn't feeling very motivated to write. But now things are better and I'm back!! And I'm so excited to finally finish this fic! 
> 
> I'm not gonna lie, this chapter was really hard for me to write and that might show. Regardless, I hope you all like it! As always, thanks for reading and supporting this fic <3 <3 <3


	8. Chapter Eight

After that, things were better. The slide of their relationship reverting to what it was before their fight was gradual, right until it wasn’t. One day, Tony looked at Steve as he laughed at something Tony said - head thrown back exposing the arch of his neck, sunlight glinting on mussed blonde hair, eyes crinkled in delight - and simply thought, _God, I love you_.

That was it. No hurt. No anger. No regret. Just love.

It filled him with buoyant warmth. Tony lowered his head and smiled to himself.

_Good._

_Back to normal._

\-------

Or rather, Tony went back to normal. Steve… well, whatever the fuck was going on with Steve, it definitely wasn’t _normal._

\-------

It started with a broken mug.

“So, while in theory, I support any and all Tolkien adaptations for the big screen, I, one, am pissed Stark Industries managed to get outbid on the rights-”

Tony finished stirring in the dash of cream Steve liked in his coffee and held it out for Steve to take as he continued talking, “-and two, I don’t trust anyone else not to fuck it up because-”

As Steve reached to grab the mug, their fingers overlapped, Steve’s sliding slowly over Tony’s and Steve made a noise like a hastily indrawn breath and-

_Crash!_

Tony jumped. He stopped talking and blinked in confusion at the shattered remains of the mug and the coffee splattered across the kitchen.

\-------

Tony was working underneath the ‘32 Ford when his AC/DC t-shirt snagged on something and with a loud _rip_ acquired a new and large hole.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Tony cursed as he attempted to extricate himself from beneath the car with a modicum of grace.

Once he stumbled to his feet, Tony pulled off the shirt and stared at it mournfully. He _liked_ this shirt. Sure, he had at least four other AC/DC t-shirts, but this one was the _best_ one - the most comfortable, broken-in one. He was in the middle of trying to figure out it if it was worth bribing Clint into sewing it back together for him (Clint was surprisingly handy with needle and thread) when the doors to the workshop opened and Steve walked in.

“Hey, Tony, are you-” Steve broke off talking. His gaze dropped to Tony’s bare chest. He blinked. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He closed it again.

“Steve?” Tony asked. Was Steve broken?

Steve stared for a second more, turned on his heel, and walked right back out of workshop, leaving a bewildered Tony in his wake.

\-------

It was after the second time Steve jumped up and moved after Tony sat next to him on the couch that Tony started worrying. What the fuck was wrong with Steve? Because this weird, indefinable tension between them was decidedly not normal _._

Tony thought things between them were okay, but what if he was wrong? Did some part of Steve still think Tony would hurt Bucky? Did Steve think Tony’s decision to help Bucky was insincere?

That’s what this had to be, right? Something to do with Barnes? It hurt, the possibility that despite everything they’d been through, Steve didn’t trust him. What if what had happened - Steve’s attempts to conceal the truth about Tony’s parents and Tony’s reaction - always stayed between them; an insurmountable crack directly through the middle of their friendship?

_What if Steve and I are broken for good?_

The idea leapt into his head unbidden, and once there, Tony couldn’t stop obsessing over it. It made him distracted. He dropped important, delicate things in the workshop. He spaced out in the middle of SI board meetings. He forgot two lunches in a row with Natasha and missed a video call with Rhodey.

_I can fix anything; why can’t I fix this?_

It kept Tony awake at night. It terrified him. And naturally, it caused Tony to fuck up at the most inopportune moment.

\-------

The Avengers were clearing out another HYDRA base - something which had become routine over the past month - when Tony, a touch sleep-deprived and thinking about five other things, found himself alone in a part of compound that hadn’t been cleared yet. There had been a yell, a loud _bang_ , a panicked “ _Tony”_ over the comms, and then everything had gone black.

\-------

In Tony’s defense, he was completely, 100% fine. Medical cleared him after running a few neurological tests and a CT. He didn’t even have a concussion. Probably. He had just suffered from a minor case of head trauma and subsequent unconsciousness for a few minutes there.

Tony sat on bed in medical and tried to listen as the doctor talked, but kept being distracted by Steve standing silently a few feet away, his arms crossed and mouth fixed in a scowl.

 _Oh no._ Tony knew that face. That was definitely an “I’m about to yell at Tony” face.

“So you’re okay to go, Mr. Stark. But be sure to take it easy today and tomorrow - no strenuous activities - and remember to notify us if you experience any of the following in the next 48 hours: headaches, dizziness, nausea, difficulty sleeping, trouble concentrating, or sensitivity to light.” As soon as Dr. Pak finished rattling off the list of symptoms, Tony jumped to his feet.

“Thanks, doc! I’ll be going now to get a head start on my physician-prescribed, quiet rest with no disturbances. Sorry, Cap! Looks like I’ll be skipping debrief, doctor’s orders!” And without a backwards glance at Steve and his forbidding frown of doom, Tony strategically retreated to the safety of his bedroom.

\-------

The loud, impatient knock on his bedroom door came about an hour later. Tony silently debated the dignity of hiding in the bathroom when JARVIS (the traitor) announced, “Captain Rogers,” and his door unlocked with a _click_ to reveal Steve.

Steve clearly hadn’t bothered to shower or change before coming to find Tony. He had replaced his uniform top with a tight, white t-shirt, but still wore his uniform pants and boots. Steve’s hair was disheveled and a small smudge of dirt decorated one cheekbone. He still looked infuriatingly perfect.

Steve stepped into the room and pinned Tony with a stare. His gaze ran over Tony’s face before dipping down in a thorough scan of the rest Tony’s body. Steve’s eyes were dark and hot and Tony felt their intensity like caress trailed across his skin.

Tony shivered and Steve took another step forward. He still hadn’t said anything and the weight of his silence thrummed between them.

“Okay, in my defense-” Tony started saying before promptly forgetting the rest of the sentence (and how to speak altogether) because Steve took one final step closer, cupped Tony’s face in his hands, and kissed him.

Steve caught his lips in a kiss that was sweet and light - a barely there pressure that made a simple warmth rush through Tony’s body. Tony melted into it. His mind went blank and he felt weightless. The only thing that made any sense was the exquisite press of Steve’s lips against his. Steve kissed him and nothing in the world had ever felt this good - nothing.

The kiss was lush and languid until it wasn’t. He didn’t know who moved first, but Tony’s hand fisted in the back of Steve’s shirt, pulling him flush with Tony’s body as Steve’s hands moved to card through Tony’s hair and angle his head just so. Steve’s tongue licked across Tony’s bottom lip and Tony’s mouth parted in needy gasp. And just like that, their kiss turned into something fierce and desperate.

Steve’s tongue twined with his and Tony burned, arousal slamming into him so fast it made him dizzy.

Steve’s hands skimmed along Tony’s back to grip his waist and hitch him closer. Steve’s body was a line of solid heat against his and Tony ached. Steve nipped at Tony’s bottom lip and Tony couldn’t hold back his moan.

Tony felt like a starving man presented with a banquet feast.

It overwhelmed him, being surrounded by Steve - Steve’s lips fervent and eager against his, Steve’s hands urging him closer, Steve’s body finally available for Tony’s searching fingers to explore, Steve’s scent, the dark stormy blue of Steve’s eyes, Steve, _Steve._

It was everything Tony had ever wanted but known he could never have and it was that thought which finally broke through the haze of _want-need-crave_ obscuring Tony’s thoughts.

The sheer perfection of the moment shattered, leaving behind the callous cruelty of reality. And the reality was Tony craved Steve with a desperation that would destroy him if he let it.

Tony refused to let it.

It fractured something inside of him to do it, but Tony wrenched himself away from Steve, breaking their kiss. He took a stumbling step backwards, out of the circle of Steve’s arms, and tried to collect himself before speaking.

“What the fuck, Steve?” Tony said and he hated how his voice quavered.

A pause. “I’m sorry, I should have asked before doing that.” Steve’s voice was raspy with disuse. His lips were swollen, his cheeks were flushed, and his hair was mussed. He looked obscene. Tony wanted nothing more than to kiss him again and he hated Steve for it.

“You’re sorry for not _asking_?” Tony repeated, a touch hysterically.

Steve’s chin jutted out stubbornly. “Yes. I’m sorry for not asking. I’m not sorry for kissing you. I should have done it months ago - I wanted to do it months ago.”

Tony couldn’t even begin to unpack the enormity of that statement.

Tony’s mouth dropped open. “ _Why?_ ” he asked incredulously.

“Because I’m in love with you,” Steve answered calmly and Tony stopped breathing. Time seemed freeze and the words heavy hung in the air between them.

“No you’re not,” Tony said, “You can’t be.”

“I love you,” Steve said.

“No-”

“I’m in love with you-”

“Stop saying that!” Tony needed to stop Steve, needed to stop him from making this worse than it already was.

“-and I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since you punched me in the face,” Steve said and he smiled at Tony like he meant it, like he wasn’t _lying_. Tony took a deep breath and tried to slow his racing heart. This- Tony could fix this; he could make Steve realize his mistake.

“Okay, listen,” Tony said, “Maybe you think you’re in love with me, but you’re not. That’s not what this is. This is…” _a moment of temporary insanity,_ Tony wanted to say, but changed tracks after seeing Steve’s smile morph into scowl, “a passing feeling. I know things between us have been… _intense_ recently, but that’s not _love_. That’s-” Steve didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t tell me how I feel, Tony,” Steve said, anger creeping into his voice. “I know what love is. I know what I feel when I’m with you, how just seeing you is enough to make my day better. I know-” Tony couldn’t listen to this any longer, couldn’t bear being given hope.

“We’re not soulmates!” He yelled, cutting Steve off.

Steve paused, his eyes wide with surprise. “Geez, Tony. Is that what this is about? That we’re not soulmates?”

“We’re not,” Tony said, crossing his arms.

“We are in every way that matters,” Steve said, “And I think you know it. I think you might feel the same way about me.”

Of course he- Didn’t Steve see it didn’t matter if Tony felt the same. “Steve, you love the idea of soulmates,” Tony reminded him, “And you’ve been waiting for yours for 95 years.” It hurt to say the words out loud, but Steve couldn’t brush this off. Tony wasn’t Steve’s soulmate. He didn’t get to have Steve. Tony understood that. Why didn’t Steve?

“I don't want them if they're not you,” Steve retorted, his mouth set in a familiar stubborn line.

Tony ignored how his traitorous heart tripped and sped up at Steve’s words. Because no matter how much Steve might mean them now, Tony knew everything would change the moment Steve met his soulmate. “Steve, that’s- that’s ridiculous. They’re your soulmate. You're going to meet them and fall in love - real love - with them and what happens then?” _What happens to me?_ was the unspoken question.

But of course Tony knew what would happen. Steve would leave him and Tony’s heartbreak would be unimaginable. Tony could barely imagine surviving the pain if Steve were to meet his soulmate now. How much worse would the agony be if Tony was allowed to have Steve first? A grief so inconceivable Tony wasn’t sure he would come back from it.

“That’s not going to happen, Tony,” Steve said, endearingly earnest, “If - and that’s a big _if_ \- I meet them, it won’t matter. I know I love you more than I could ever love my soulmate, whoever they are or might have been.”

“You can’t _possibly_ know that,” Tony said.

“I can.”

“Steve-”

“No, Tony, please. Just- listen,” Steve said, interrupting Tony’s protestations and Tony fell begrudgingly silent. Steve paused, seeming to collect his thought, and then spoke. “When I woke up in this century, it was hard - and to keep waking up, day after day, was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I felt disconnected from everything. I looked at this world and didn’t see anything I recognized. I stopped believing - in myself, in people, in what I was doing. That’s dangerous for someone like me.

“But then you happened. You didn’t care I was ‘Captain America.’ You saw the miles-high wall I had erected around myself - complete with barbed wire and ‘keep out’ signs - and you didn’t care. You smashed your way through it and forced me to believe in something - in you.  I believed in you first and it made believing in everything else - this life, these new people, the future and my place in it - easy. It’s the best thing anyone has ever done for me.

“You gave me a home. And I know you might not need me the same way I need you and that’s okay. I can need this enough for the both of us. I love you and I’m asking you to let me prove it. I’m asking you to give this - us - a chance. I’m asking you to trust me. I’m asking you to let me kiss you again. I’m asking you to say yes. So please Tony, say yes.”

Tony’s pulse roared dully in his ears. His breathing came in ragged pants and he was frozen, pinned in place by the raw beauty of Steve’s words and the unmistakable devotion in his eyes. Everything inside of him screamed, “ _YES, say yes._ ”

“No,” Tony said.

Steve closed his eyes. His expression was one of naked pain and Tony hated himself for being the one who caused it. “Do you love me?” Steve asked, his voice fragile.

“Steve-”

Steve opened his eyes and Tony was surprised to see they were full of fire. “Do you love me, Tony?” He demanded, his voice stronger, “Because I think you do. And instead of facing it, instead of trying, you’re running.”

What could Tony say to that? Steve was right. He usually was.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice shaking. Tony looked at the ground, no longer able to stand meeting Steve’s gaze. His eyes burned and he stood there, waiting for Steve to leave, to hear the slam of the door behind him. Instead, Tony heard a sigh and watched Steve’s feet step closer, towards Tony instead of away.

One of Steve’s hands cupped Tony’s face and Tony couldn’t stop himself from flinching in surprise. Startled, he looked up and back into Steve’s eyes. Steve cupped his cheek again, brushing a thumb along Tony’s cheekbone. Steve then leaned forward only to stop a hair’s breadth away from Tony’s lips, giving him plenty of time to move away if he wanted.

Tony stood there, immobile, terrified of moving and having Steve _stop._ After a moments hesitation, Steve closed the distance and pressed a short, soft kiss against Tony’s lips before drawing back.

Tony stared at him in shock.

Steve smiled, small and tired, his thumb still stroking along Tony’s cheekbone. “Just so you know, your answer doesn’t change anything, Tony. I’m still going to love you tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. I’m not going to stop. I’m not ever going to stop. So when you’re ready to deal with that, you know where to find me.”

Steve’s hand dropped away from Tony’s cheek, and Tony suppressed a shiver at the wave of cold that swept through him. Steve then turned and left, leaving Tony alone once more.

\-------

The rest of the day passed in a blurry haze and after what seemed like mere minutes (but must have been hours), Tony looked and was surprised to find it was dark outside.

“JARVIS?” Tony asked, his voice coming out in a croak.

“It is 1:47 AM, Sir,” JARVIS said, replying to Tony’s unspoken question. “Perhaps it is time to go to bed.”

Tony nodded numbly. He went through the motions of his nightly routine on autopilot and then collapsed back on to the bed.

Tony was exhausted and he felt sore and battered, like his body was one big bruise. He was desperate to escape into the blissful blankness of sleep, but every time Tony closed his eyes, he saw Steve, standing in front of him saying, _I love you._

Tony’s eyes flew open and he let out a pained exhale as he stared at the ceiling.

 _I did the right thing_ , he told himself. He repeated it over and over again like a mantra. It didn’t help.

Tony rolled to his side and tried to think of anything other than the hot press of Steve’s lips against his and the same lips forming the words, _I’m in love with you_.

It was jarring, how quickly his most implausible dream had somehow become a nightmare.

No. That wasn’t quite right. Because Tony hadn’t dreamt of Steve loving him. No. He had dreamt of being Steve’s soulmate. And Tony wasn’t Steve’s soulmate. No matter what Steve said, nothing could change that.

Tony believed Steve would meet his soulmate even if Steve didn’t. He had to believe it. Nobody deserved a soulmate more than Steve. And once Steve met them, he would forget he had ever had feelings for Tony. When Steve met them, he would see Tony had been right to say no today.

Tony rolled to his other side and on to his stomach, burying his head in a pillow.

_I did the right thing._

Steve would get over this and so would Tony. Everything would go back to the way it was before they kissed.

 _It’s going to be fine_ , Tony told himself and eventually, he managed to fall into a troubled sleep.

\-------

But it wasn’t fine. Tony and Steve didn’t go back to normal. No. Instead, things between them were unbearably strained.

Tony couldn’t stand to look at Steve for longer than a few seconds and Steve didn’t seem to want to do anything but look at Tony. Whenever they were in the same room, Steve stared at Tony, his eyes a painful mix of heartbreak and hope.

It made Tony feel unbearably guilty.

It made Tony angry because it had been Steve who had kissed him, Steve who had opened his mouth and ruined them with three little words.

It made Tony want to curl into a ball on his bed and never leave.

It made Tony want to drink.

And of course, because they weren’t idiots, the rest of the Avengers picked up on the tension between him and Steve. They saw the way Steve looked at Tony and the way Tony didn’t look at Steve and drew their own conclusions.

The looks they started giving Tony fell anywhere on the spectrum from kicked puppy (Clint) to worried (Bruce) to reproachful (Sam). Then, one day, Tony caught something like pity flash across Natasha’s face before she could hide it and decided he’d had enough.

\-------

Steve found him as he finished packing. Because of course he did. Clearly, nothing about this would be easy.

“So, you’re leaving.”

Tony glanced up from his suitcase to see Steve leaning against his doorway, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “I see you got my message, Cap,” he said, injecting his voice with all the false cheeriness he could muster, “It’s SI business. Can’t put it off any longer. But don’t worry, the suitcase armor is coming with me. If there’s anything the Avengers need, I’m a phone call away.”

“What about what I need?”

Tony shook out a t-shirt before folding it aggressively. “Look, Rogers, can we not-”

“So we’re back to ‘Rogers’ now, _Mr. Stark_ -”

“Ok. Fine. _Steve_. Can we not-”

“ _Tony_ -”

“Because what else is there to say? Can’t you just-”

“Goddammit Tony, would you at least look at me?”

Tony cut off speaking, startled by the intensity in Steve’s voice. It had the desired effect. Tony looked at Steve and for the first time in days, didn’t immediately look away.

Steve- well, now that Tony was looking, Steve looked… not great. His jeans and t-shirt were rumpled, as if he had thrown on the first clothes he had found, regardless of their state of cleanliness. He eyes were tired and framed by dark circles. His hands were taped around the knuckles and Tony knew underneath that tape was ripped skin and dried blood.

 _He looks like that because of you_ , thought Tony, _You did that. Are you proud?_

“Steve,” Tony said and some his anguish must have leaked into his voice because Steve’s hard, angry expression softened.

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Just- be safe, Tony. Be safe and come back soon. We’ll miss you. I’ll miss you.”

\-------

Tony wasn’t _leaving_ leaving. He’d been putting off a business trip to SI headquarters in California for a few months now. So Tony went to Los Angeles and spent a week there. Then, instead of going back to New York, he went to London for a meeting with some overseas investors.

 _You’re running_ , said Steve’s voice in his head. Tony ignored it.

Next was Tokyo to talent scout and recruit a particularly promising new bio-engineer. Then on to Mumbai to oversee the beta version of the arc reactor being built to provide the city with clean energy.

One week, two weeks, three weeks - Tony thought he would feel better by now. He didn’t. No. Instead, Tony missed Steve with a fierce, empty ache that kept him awake at night. The days passed in a blur of different cities and it didn’t matter because all Tony could think about it was how it felt to be held in Steve’s arms and how much he wanted to be back there.

Tony woke up cold and alone in a bed in Berlin, the vestiges of his dream still swirling in front of his eyes, and thought, _If I had said yes, I would be waking up in my bed with Steve next to me_ . Tony closed his eyes. Like in his dream, Tony would wake up warm, a heavy arm slung around his middle. The arm would tighten around him, pulling him closer as Steve woke up too. There would be a light kiss pressed to the back of his neck and the brush of Steve’s nose as placed another behind Tony’s ear before whispering, _Good morning_.

But Tony hadn’t said yes. So when he opened his eyes, Tony was greeted with the sight of his opulent and empty hotel room instead of a sleep-mussed Steve. Desperate yearning slammed into him, stealing his breath away and between one moment and the next, Tony had his phone in his hand and Steve’s contact open on the screen.

Tony’s sanity came back to him as his thumb hovered over the “call” button and with a startled yelp, he threw the phone across the room. It skittered along the floor and slid underneath the dresser. Tony stared at it, his heart racing. _Thank god I didn’t call_ , part of him thought only to be drowned out by the much louder voice in his head which begged, _All I want is to hear his voice_.

\-------

After that, the floodgates opened and Tony couldn’t stop torturing himself with imagining it.

_What if I had said yes?_

\-------

The day Tony came back to New York, it rained. Tony hadn’t told anyone he was coming back, so no welcome party waited for him at the tower. Tony headed straight to his workshop. The lights blinked on and Tony took in deep breath, feeling something settle inside of him. It felt good, being back.

Something nudged against Tony’s back and he stumbled as he turned around. Tony grinned. “Hey buddy, I missed you too,” he said, giving DUM-E a pat. DUM-E beeped happily back at him and Tony’s smile widened.

“Sir, if I may say so, it is good to have you back home,” JARVIS said.

“Same, J. Same,” Tony said.

\-------

Tony spent the rest of the day in his workshop, reacquainting himself with the projects he had left half-finished before his trip and one by one, the Avengers trickled into welcome him back - with one notable super-soldier shaped exception.

 _Get a grip,_ Tony told himself each time his stomach twisted in disappointment when the person stepping into his workshop wasn’t Steve. _Steve is giving you space - it’s exactly what you wanted._

It was good to see everyone, but in between catching Tony up everything he had missed, each Avenger also tried to ask him about Steve.

The inquiries ranged from gentle (Natasha - “Do you want to talk about it, Tony?”) to blunt (Clint - “What’s up with you and Steve? Things still weird there? Did you accidentally set him on fire? Because lemme tell you, Nat didn’t talk to me for like two weeks after the last time I did that to her.”) to awkward (Bruce - “Um, so, Steve?”) and Tony deflected all of them with the glib ease born of many years of practice in avoiding things he’d rather not talk about.

\-------

“Did you know it is common for Asgardians to have multiple soulmates?” Thor asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them after Thor finished his recounting of the most recent Avengers’ mission.

“No,” Tony said after a pause, thrown by the abrupt subject change. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s true. There are many theories as to why, but my favorite is a story my mother Frigga used to tell me. It was the answer she gave the first time I asked her what a soul-light was.

“She explained it like this. Long ago, when Yggdrasil began to grow, Those Who Sit Above in Shadow spun the stars into something more and created Asgard. And then, from the bones of the world they had breathed into existence - from the light, wind and rock - they created the first Asgardians. They wanted Asgard and its people to prosper, to be happy, and most importantly, they wanted Asgardians to _survive_. The universe had just woken up and it was a dangerous place, particularly for a new race of mortals. So around the circle they went, and each of the Shadow Gods bestowed a gift upon Asgardians.

“‘They shall be strong,’ the first said, ‘Strong enough to defeat their enemies.’  
  
“‘They shall be fast,’ said the second, ‘Fast enough to run should their strength not be enough.’

“‘Their skin shall be thick,’ said the third, ‘So any weapon which strikes them causes no harm.’

“‘They shall heal quickly and quietly,’ said the fourth, ‘So if a weapon strikes true, it will not fell them.’

“‘They shall carry in them the ability to use sorcery,’ said the fifth, ‘So if they are ever in dire need, they may use it.’

“‘And they shall live long lives,’ said the sixth, ‘Their bodies and minds untouched by the ravages of time.’

“The six Shadow Gods nodded at each other, satisfied with the gifts they had given. And then, another voice spoke.

“‘Wait,’ said the voice and a ripple of shock went through the Shadow Gods. Because while there are not six Shadow Gods - there are seven - the seventh _does not speak_.

“The seventh Shadow God was the oldest and in fact the true First. She had been there for eons before the creation of the other Shadow Gods and would be there for eons after. It had been millennia since she had spoken. Her words carry great power and she bears their weight willingly, only bestowing them when necessary.

“‘Wait,’ said the seventh and wait the rest did with eager ears for surely the gift she had to bestow would be the most important one of all.

“‘They shall wear their hearts outside of their chests,’ she finally said, her words slow but strong and ringing with the kind of power that creates stars, ‘So when they meet a person whose destiny is intertwined with theirs, they will know.’ She paused and smiled. It was beautiful. It was terrible. It was a smile that knew what true loneliness was. ‘For what good is an eternity of youth, strength, and power if you have to spend it by yourself?’”

Tony listened with rapt attention. Thor was good at this. His deep voice rose and fell with the waves of the story, weaving together the tale before Tony’s eyes.

“She would always end telling me that story the same way,” Thor said after a moment, mouth curved in a bittersweet smile. “‘Thor,’ she would say, ‘A soulmate is a gift, a promise, and a possibility. It is someone you could love, but how you love them is your choice. It is always your choice.’

“On Asgard, we believe a soul-light means a person will be important to you, but _how_ they are important is up to you. They could be your brother, your best friend, your lover, or your greatest enemy. And so, many Asgardians end up finding love outside of soul-bonds as well. To do anything else would be a transgression of the highest order. It would be tantamount to spitting on the Gods. Because for all the gifts they gave us, the most important was the promise that we would never spend our lives alone.”

Tony’s breath caught in his chest, sharp and jagged. He laid a hand over the arc reactor, covering its light. “How did you-” Tony asked, but the rest of the question stuck in his throat.

“Loki is one of my soulmates,” Thor said (and _holy shit_ , Tony had not seen that one coming - no wonder Thor was so fucked up about his brother), “And Jane is not. However, it does not make my love for her - or her love for me - any less real.”

Tony felt unable to do anything but blink at Thor, his lips parted in silent shock at everything Thor had revealed.

Thor rose to his feet and clapped Tony on the shoulder. Tony’s knees buckled. Thor grinned, “Think on what I said Tony. And remember, it is always your choice. To think otherwise is for lesser men than you.”

\-------

That night, Tony went to bed with his mind racing as it replayed Thor’s words. Once again, his sleep was uneasy and punctuated by half-remembered dreams.

Around 3:00 AM, Tony woke up with a jolt.

_What if I say yes?_

Tony didn’t know if the thought was left over from a dream or if it had been inside his mind all along and simply waiting until Tony was ready to acknowledge it.

_What if I say yes?_

\-------

Tony couldn’t stop thinking about it.

What if Steve had meant what he said? What if Tony had somehow done the impossible and made Steve fall in love with him? It was a revolutionary thought. Tony had spent so long telling himself it was hopeless Steve would return his feelings that it felt traitorous to believe Steve had told the truth when he said he was in love with Tony. Was it possible Steve felt the same as Tony did?

Love didn't feel big enough to describe what Tony felt for Steve.

No. It was a living thing that burned inside of him. It was fierce want, all-encompassing need, and eternal fascination. It was every part of Tony reaching and straining for Steve. It was the recognition that without Steve next to him, Tony felt incomplete.

Somehow, loving Steve felt both like a choice he kept making and yet no choice at all. It felt inevitable. As if he and Steve had been hurtling towards this moment from the first exchanged “Captain” and “Mr. Stark.” As if falling for Steve was written in Tony’s stars. That in a hundred different worlds and a thousand different lives, no matter the circumstances, Tony would always find Steve, choose Steve, love Steve.

Tony loved Steve way soulmates loved. So why wasn’t he willing to fight for it? Why was he giving up?

All at once, Tony was furious with himself.

Tony didn’t want to be this person any longer. This person who was constantly miserable; forever waiting, fretting, and doubting. That wasn’t who he was and Tony refused to be him any longer.

By some miracle, Steve had apparently chosen Tony, had decided to love Tony, and Tony would fucking choose him back and never let him go. Steve’s soulmate could go to hell. They’d made him wait. They’d made him feel alone and broken and not enough. They didn’t deserve him. They couldn’t have him. Steve was _Tony’s_ and Tony would fight to have him.

\-------

Part one of Tony’s 17 step plan “To Get Steve Back and Live Happily Ever After” (working title) was not going well.

Hands on his hips, Tony tilted his head and studied the wreckage of homemade apple pie attempt number three. Huh. It resembled what an apple pie would look like if it had undergone a mini-explosion. And Tony would know. Apple pie attempt number one had actually exploded. But maybe it tasted alright and Tony could pass it off as deconstructed apple pie?

Tony stuck his finger in the mess, scooped out some, and licked. He immediately regretted it.

Oh god. It tasted horrible. It was somehow simultaneously both overcooked and undercooked and it was distinctly spicy instead of sweet.

Tony hastily reached for a glass of water and gulped it down, attempting to wash away the taste as quickly as possible.

Tony was a genius. Tony had five PhDs, one of which was in Chemical Engineering. And cooking was essentially chemistry. So theoretically, it shouldn’t have been hard for Tony to bake an apple pie from scratch. However, eight hours later, Tony was no closer to creating an edible pie.

“Any tips, JARVIS?” Tony asked.

“Well, Sir, I believe your first mistake in this attempt was using cumin instead of cinnamon in the filling.”

Tony made a sound of outrage. “Why didn’t you didn’t stop me when I was doing it!”

“If I may remind you Sir, 3.56 hours ago, you expressed the wish to do this ‘on my own, JARVIS, stop backseat cooking!’” JARVIS replied.

“You’re sounding pretty self-righteous for someone I can shutdown at any time, J,” Tony said with glare.

“My apologies, Sir,” JARVIS said, sounding not at all apologetic.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay,” Tony said as he picked up attempt number 3 and unceremoniously dumped it in the trash, “Let’s try this again. Apple pie attempt number four, here we come. This one’s gonna be the winner, I can tell.”

\-------

Part one of Tony’s detailed, complex, 17 step plan was groveling and homemade apology pie. In fact, parts one through five of The Plan involved groveling. Tony knew it would likely take a lot of apologizing just to get Steve to talk to him let alone begin to forgive him.

After all, Tony had taken Steve’s proffered heart and stomped on it before fleeing the country to get away from him. Which, in retrospect, Tony realized was not the optimal thing to do to the love of your life. Hence the groveling and bribery via pie. Tony was prepared to grovel as much as Steve wanted and bake Steve every type of pie in existence if it meant Steve forgiving him.

And after Steve forgave him? Well, then Tony would proceed to the “wooing” part of The Plan, the first step of which involved resuming their sparring sessions and trying to punch Steve in the face again since apparently he responded positively to that type of thing. But Tony was getting ahead of himself. Before any wooing could happen there needed to apologies and pie.

\-------

Unfortunately, Tony’s detailed, complex, 17 step plan didn’t quite account for Steve’s propensity to take all Tony’s carefully crafted ideas and turn them on their heads.

\-------

The kitchen timer went off at exactly 9:03 PM and Tony bent to pull apple pie attempt number four out of the oven. This one looked relatively normal, if a little concave in the center. Also, Tony had put JARVIS in charge of carefully monitoring the ingredients and had taste tested everything along the way, so he was fairly positive the pie was edible.

Tony placed the pie on the counter and grinned in triumph.  “Ha! Take that culinary arts!”

A cough. “Uh, Tony?”

Shit, shit, _shit_. Tony knew that voice. Tony spun around and there, standing in the middle of wreckage of Tony’s kitchen (oh god, pie filling was still on the ceiling from explosion number one), was Steve.

Tony was wearing a pair of old, ripped, grease-stained jeans and a black tank top covered in streaks of flour. Tony looked exactly as disheveled as someone who had been trying (and mostly failing) to bake for 10 hours would be expected to look. In contrast, even though he wore jeans and a simple t-shirt, Steve looked beautiful and perfect.

Tony took a moment to glare at Steve’s flawlessly coiffed hair, Steve’s rip-free jeans, and Steve’s navy blue t-shirt, which not only molded to Steve’s chest like it was three sizes too small, but also was stain-free. This was emphatically not The Plan. The plan was Tony would shower, change into a devastatingly attractive outfit, spend at least 30 minutes rehearsing what he would to say, and then take the pie over to talk to Steve on his own terms.

“Tony, is everything okay?” Steve asked, interrupting Tony’s silent panicking.

Tony wrenched his gaze up to meet Steve’s questioning eyes. “Steve! Hi. Um. This isn’t what it looks like?”

Steve raised his brows. “Well, it looks like your kitchen exploded.”

“Okay, well then it’s exactly what it looks like,” Tony conceded and Steve flashed him a quick-silver grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Is that a pie?” Steve asked, pointing at the counter.

“Yes, yes it is. It’s an apple pie. And it’s actually for you. As in I made it for you. It’s supposed to be an apology pie. Basically it’s an ‘I’m sorry I fled the country’ pie. Which I am - sorry, that is. It’s also a nostalgic ‘remember that time we ate pie and became friends’ pie - AKA a ‘remember how much you like me when I’m not being an idiot’ pie. Or at least, it was supposed to be all those things, but as it turns out I’m terrible at baking pies and-” Tony’s words trailed off as he stared at Steve.

Steve, who was finally here after long weeks of Tony desperately yearning for him. Steve, who was looking at him with that adorable pout and furrow between his brows he always wore when he was confused. Steve, who Tony loved more than anything.

 _Fuck it_ , thought Tony as he abruptly discarded parts 2 through 17 of his plan.

“You know what, no. That’s not apology pie,” Tony said, taking a determined step closer to Steve.

“What? I don’t get the pie?” Steve asked, sounding endearingly confused.

“No. You can have the pie if you want. But I should warn you, there’s a 50/50 chance eating it will kill you. But it’s not apology pie, because the pie doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m sorry for everything - for our fight, for avoiding you, and for leaving.” Tony paused, taking a breath and gathering his courage before continuing. Steve’s eyes held his and Tony felt like he was drowning in their depths.

“But mostly, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I love you back. Because I do. I love you. I’m in love with you. It destroys me, the thought that there’s even a moment - let alone an entire month - where you’ve believed I didn’t love you. I know it might be too late, that you might not want this anymore, but I had to try. That’s what the stupid pie is.” Tony took the final step into Steve’s space.

Steve’s mouth had fallen open in surprise and he seemed temporarily speechless. Tony used it to his advantage. “It’s ‘I love you’ pie,” Tony continued, placing his hands on Steve’s chest. Promisingly, Steve didn’t move away, just stared at Tony with wide eyes and parted lips. “It’s ‘I don’t care we’re not soulmates, be with me anyways’ pie,” he said, sliding his hands up and curling them around Steve’s neck. “It’s ‘kiss me again pie,’” Tony murmured and finally did what he’d never been brave enough to do before: rose up on his toes and kissed Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me posting this chapter in a timely manner (AKA sticking to my new years resolution)!!!! Hope you guys like it and be sure to stay tuned for the next chapter wherein these two idiots finally bang (yay smut!) and actually have a real, adult discussion about their feelings!! Also AO3 keeps deleting my total chapter count for some reason, but we're nearing the end of the story with about 3 more chapters left. As always, thank you guys for reading, kudos-ing and generally being awesome and leaving me the best comments!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Smut? It's all smut. You've been warned.

Tony kissed Steve and waited for Steve to kiss him back. 

Time stood still. Tony started to doubt. Icy fear gripped him as his mind raced and he questioned everything. What if he was too late? What if Steve had found someone else while Tony was gone? Someone beautiful, funny, and capable of experiencing emotions without running in the opposite direction? What if what Tony had done was enough to permanently drive Steve away?

_ Oh god. Fuck. Abort, abort. _

Alarm bells ringing in his head, Tony pulled back from a still motionless Steve.

Tony bit his lip, his nerves stretched to their breaking point. Fighting the urge to flee, Tony said,  “You asked me to say yes, Steve. This is me saying yes.”

A beat of silence. “Oh,” Steve said, his eyes wide.

And then, as if abruptly freed from paralysis, Steve moved. His hands raked through Tony’s hair and Tony barely had time to take in a startled breath before Steve crashed their mouths back together. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve and kissed him back with everything he had, his mouth yielding on a moan. The kiss was raw, rough, and scorching hot. Their lips pressed together hard enough to bruise, urgent tongues moving together, and Steve’s fingers so tight in Tony’s hair it stung. It was desperate and messy and Tony never wanted it to end.

“Thank  _ God _ ,” Tony panted as they broke apart, taking a quick gasping breath before diving back into the kiss.

“For a moment there-,” Tony said in between kisses, “I was-” another kiss - “worried-” a breathless break - “I mean-”

“Tony?” Steve interrupted, pulling away for a moment. His hair was mussed and his cheeks were pink and Tony had never wanted anything more in his life than Steve.

“Yeah?” Tony said as he swayed closer, distracted by the way Steve’s tongue peeked out to swipe across his reddened lips.

“Stop talking,” Steve said.

“Yeah, okay,” Tony said and then Steve’s lips were back on his and everything was perfect.

This kiss was a revelation. They kissed like they were the first ones to discover what it meant. Tony couldn’t get enough of it. Steve’s hands moved from Tony’s hair, down his back to grasp at his hips, fingers digging in with barely restrained strength. 

Tony had been kissed a lot in his life, but this one left all those behind. Steve’s lips against his felt more necessary than air.  _ Damn _ . What useless things had Tony been using his lips for before this? Clearly, kissing Steve was what they had been designed to do. 

Steve bit and sucked at Tony’s bottom lip, making him groan before he soothed the area with his tongue. Tony’s pulse pounded in his ears and his breaths, when he managed to take them, were ragged. His fingers on Steve’s shoulders flexed, aching with the need for  _ more  _ and  _ closer. _

Reading Tony’s mind, Steve walked Tony back until he hit the counter, its edge digging into his back and making him arch into Steve. Without breaking their kiss, Steve gripped Tony’s thighs and with no discernible effort, he picked Tony up and deposited him on the counter. 

Tony let out a startled moan at the manhandling before pulling back to flash a wicked grin at Steve.

“Okay, that’s definitely something to explore more at a later date,” he breathed out, thinking about the many delightful ways Steve’s super strength would come in handy and he felt Steve’s answering smile against his lips.

Stepping fully in between Tony’s legs and hauling him close, Steve lowered his head to Tony’s neck, kissing and nipping his way down. Tony let his head thunk back against the kitchen cabinets and sighed with pleasure. He hooked his legs around Steve’s waist and threaded a hand through Steve’s hair, letting his eyes slip closed as he drowned in the dizzying sensation of being wrapped around Steve.

Steve sucked at the junction of Tony’s neck and shoulder hard enough to leave a mark and it made him shiver. 

“So good, Steve,” Tony moaned, unable to help the small, hitching rolls of his hips against Steve’s, his hand tightening in Steve’s hair. Tony didn’t know when it had happened but he was so hard it hurt. With every second that passed the yawning, hungry desire that lived inside Tony grew, the flames stoked higher and higher.

Steve roughly tugged at the strap of Tony’s tank top, baring a shoulder, and Tony thought he heard the cloth rip. Steve’s other hand rucked up his shirt on the side, his hot palm skimming along the skin of Tony’s waist and sending heat racing down his spine.

“Oh, fuck,” Tony hissed and he ground sinuously against Steve in response.

The situation was rapidly escalating and although a good  98% of his thought process was devoted to strategizing the quickest way to get them both naked, with the remaining functioning 2% of his brain, he managed to remember he and Steve should have something resembling a real  conversation before going any further.

“Wait, wait,” Tony gasped, tugging on Steve’s hair and forcing him to detach from Tony’s neck. Once Steve stopped kissing him, Tony ignored the loud protests of his body (which wanted to continue climbing Steve like a tree) and scooted backwards. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

Steve’s pupils were blown wide and color rode high on his cheeks. Looking into Steve’s eyes, Tony saw his own desperate need mirrored. 

Steve licked his kiss-swollen lips and said, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

Tony knew. Now that it was happening, it seemed inevitable. As if every possible path they could have taken would have still eventually led to this moment - Tony in Steve’s arms. 

Steve’s hand cupped Tony’s cheek. Tony leaned into the touch and Steve’s other hand at Tony’s waist flexed as if fighting the impulse to pull him closer. “How long I’ve wanted you?” Steve continued. A pause. “How long I’ve loved you?”

Until Steve said the words, Tony hadn’t known he was waiting for them. And once Tony had the affirmation that Steve still loved him, all his remaining hesitation crumbled.

Tony grinned and slung his arms back around Steve’s neck. “I seem to remember something about a punch to a face?” Tony said as he scooted back to the edge of the counter and closed the distance between them, tasting Steve’s startled laughter as he recaptured his lips in a smoldering kiss.

This time it was Tony who was in control of the kiss, angling Steve’s head and using the slight height advantage from his perch on the counter to gain an impossibly deep slide into Steve’s mouth. It was sweet and lush beneath his and Tony couldn’t get enough of Steve’s taste.

It didn’t take long for Tony’s arousal to reignite, making him ache for  _ more.  _ Tony arched into Steve, rolling their bodies together in a perfect, dirty slide. This time it was Steve who moaned, and it was quite possibly the most exquisite sound Tony had ever heard in his life.

With one last lick, Tony pulled back from the Steve’s tempting lips to look at him. His hair in disarray and lips parted, Steve blinked, looking dazed - almost drunk. The air between them was charged, crackling in anticipation. Tony stared back, captivated. Tony wanted to worship him. Tony wanted to ruin him. 

_ Time to get this show on the road,  _ he thought to himself, striping off Steve’s t-shirt with eager hands. Tony bit his lip as his eyes trailed across Steve’s sculpted chest. It should have been illegal for Steve to look this good, like a marble statue come to life. Tony’s pulse pounded in his ears as he trailed fingers across the firm planes of Steve’s pectorals. His skin was hot to the touch and his muscles jumped beneath Tony’s fingers. Tony couldn’t help the cut-off sound of pure want he made as he explored Steve’s gorgeous body. 

_ I need- _ , Tony thought with a distracted hunger as he leaned forward and finally got his mouth on Steve, licking across a nipple and eliciting a gasp and a breathy, “ _ Tony, _ ” from Steve above him. Tony mapped his way across Steve’s chest with his mouth, paying special attention to Steve’s nipples which seemed particularly sensitive.

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. Tony felt like he was on fire, like he would burn from the inside out if he didn’t get his hands and his mouth on more of Steve’s skin.

Untangling his legs from Steve’s waist, Tony pushed against Steve’s chest, sending him stumbling backwards until his back hit the kitchen island.

“Tony, what-” Steve started but his words cut off as Tony hopped off the counter and went to his knees in front of Steve.

“Okay?” Tony asked with a smug grin as he gazed up at a Steve who was seemingly struck speechless, his hands cupping Steve’s hips and stroking at the exposed skin.

At Steve’s shaky nod, Tony hummed and leaned forward and placed a sucking kiss on Steve’s abdomen above the waistband of his pants. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” Tony said, reaching for the button of Steve’s jeans. “Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this. Can’t wait to get my mouth on you.” Tony then yanked the jeans down, leaving Steve in only his boxer-briefs. 

Black cotton stretched across the shape of Steve’s hard cock and Tony couldn’t stop himself from cupping the bulge with his hand and finally feeling the proof of Steve’s arousal.

“Oh fuck,” Steve cursed, the end turning into a moan as his hips rolled forward, chasing Tony’s touch.

Tony laughed breathlessly and tugged Steve’s underwear - his last scrap of clothing - down lithe hips, leaving him gloriously naked.

“Look at you, gorgeous,” Tony murmured and his eyes raked greedily over Steve’s body before settling on Steve’s flushed and straining erection. Steve was beautiful. Long and thick and deliciously hard. Tony wanted him so badly he felt lightheaded.

Tony spit into his hand before reaching out wrap it around Steve’s cock. Satisfied with Steve’s loud gasp of pleasure, Tony stroked, enjoying the weight and feel of Steve in his hand. 

Continuing to fist Steve’s length Tony watched as a drop of pre-cum appeared at the slit of Steve’s cock. Mesmerized, Tony couldn’t help leaning forward and licking, finally tasting what he had been dreaming about. 

“Please,” Steve panted. 

Tony looked up at Steve as he gave the twitching head of Steve’s cock another indolent lick. He knew the picture he made, kneeling at Steve’s feet, swollen lips wrapped around Steve’s cock. Tony might have been the one on his knees but right now, he was the one with all the power. 

Steve gazed down at him with lust-blown eyes, his lips parted around harsh breaths. His hands gripped the counter behind him, knuckles white. Steve looked like he was barely holding onto his control and Tony wanted to see him lose it completely.

“ _ Tony, _ ” Steve pleaded.

“As you wish,” Tony said and without preamble, he licked Steve’s cock from root to tip before closing his mouth around the head and giving it a slow, indulgent suck.

Although he’d only been doing it for a few seconds, Tony knew he could become addicted to this. The stretch of his lips around Steve’s girth and the heavy weight of him in his mouth sent shivers of pleasure skittering through Tony. He chased the salty-bitter bursts of pre-come on his tongue. Best of all were the desperate noises Steve made each time Tony took his cock deep into the back of his throat.

Tony’s own confined erection throbbed with urgent need. He was dangerously close to coming untouched just from this - the simple pleasure of having Steve in his mouth.

Steve’s hips occasionally jerked in tiny, helpless twitches as Tony moved up and down his cock, but mostly, they stayed still. Steve was clearly intent on letting Tony dictate the pace. 

Tony let his teeth gently graze Steve’s shaft as he withdrew and gave the head of Steve’s cock a particularly fervent suck. A resounding  _ crack  _ echoed through the kitchen and when Tony looked, he could see fissures sprouting in the marble around Steve’s hands; Steve’s grip on the counter was so tight the counter had cracked.

_ Hot _ , was Tony’s first thought and he couldn’t help his own muffled moan at the sight of Steve’s careful restraint splintering.

Tony pulled back, letting his tongue play around the head of Steve’s cock and dipping into the slit there for a moment before he pulled off completely.

“You can touch me, you know,” Tony said, his voice rough - a clear reminder of what he had been doing. “I want you to,” Tony said as he rubbed the head of Steve’s cock over his bottom lip before sitting back on his heels, his lips parted in clear invitation. He wanted to fully snap that iron self-possession and see Steve take what he needed. They were both so wound up Tony knew it wouldn’t take long.

“Fuck,” Steve cursed, his gaze hot and hungry as he gingerly let go of the counter and threaded a hand through Tony’s hair. Steve’s other hand cupped Tony’s face, reverent fingers trailing across his jaw as his thumb dipped inside Tony’s mouth, tugging it open wider. Then, with a gentle thrust, Steve gave Tony his cock.

Tony’s eyelids fluttered and his hips involuntarily hitched forward in response, his own hardness desperate for some sort of friction. Once Steve was fully buried inside his mouth, Tony hummed in approval and Steve let out a groan at the sensation.

It only took a couple careful thrusts for Steve to see Tony could take it, that he was eager for it. The hand in Tony’s hair tightened, holding him in place and Steve’s thrusts gained speed and power as he chased his own pleasure.

“So good, Tony,” Steve gasped, “So good. I’m close.” 

Tony’s eyes, which he had closed at some point, snapped back open in time to reconnect with Steve’s. One more snap of his hips and Steve let out a shout as he came in a satisfying rush down Tony’s throat.

Steve looked spectacular when he came - neck arched, chest flushed, and abdominal muscles straining, but Tony’s own urgent arousal refused to let him bask in the success of making Steve look wrecked and pleasure-drunk.

Tony let Steve’s softening cock slip from his mouth as he leaned against Steve. He panted and fumbled for his zipper, his achingly hard cock desperate for relief. As soon as he wrapped a hand around his length all it took was one, two strokes before Tony came with a harsh sob that tried to be Steve’s name. Pure ecstasy rolled through Tony and the world slid out of focus, his climax leaving him dazed and blinking spots away from his vision. When Tony finally came back to himself it was to Steve running unsteady hands through Tony’s hair.

Taking in a shuddering breath of air, Tony collapsed backwards, staring at the ceiling and enjoying the cool tile of the floor against his heated skin. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Steve slide down the side of the kitchen island before proceeding to flop on the ground next to Tony.

A piece of the cracked countertop fell to the ground with a loud  _ crash _ , breaking the silence and making Tony jump. 

“Oops?” Steve said after a beat, sounding satisfied and not at all repentant. 

Tony couldn’t help it, he laughed. After a moment, he rolled to his side, propped his head in his hand, and simply took his time looking at Steve, giddy happiness bubbling inside of him. Steve grinned in response and as he turned his head to face Tony, who couldn’t help leaning forward and stealing a taste of those smiling lips.

“Mmm, that was…” Tony said, trailing off as he ran a hand along Steve’s side, touching because he could.

“Amazing,” Steve finished for him, capturing Tony’s hand and placing a kiss in the palm.

“Yeah, not bad for a guy in his 90s,” Tony said.

Steve made a noise of protest but he sounded too sated for it to be genuine, and it made Tony chuckle.

Tony ran his hand through Steve’s sweat-dampened hair feeling puzzled when he noticed some sort of white powder in it. It was then Tony remembered exactly where they were - lying on the floor in the middle of Tony’s wrecked kitchen - and realized what was in Steve’s hair - flour. 

Tony smacked Steve’s chest. “Oh my  _ God _ . I can’t believe you let our first time be on a  _ kitchen counter _ .”

“Well, technically it was against a kitchen counter,” Steve pointed out.

“ _ Steve _ ,” Tony hissed.

“This is my fault?” Steve asked, amused.

“Obviously!” Tony said, “I had a well thought out plan. A plan that included an extremely classy seduction. There would have been champagne, rose petals, silk sheets, and professionally cooked food we could feed to each other with our fingers. But no, you had to go and ruin it. And now, we’ll always remember our first time happening in my disaster of a kitchen.”

“Well, I think it kind of fits,” Steve said, smiling as he reeled Tony for another kiss which Tony begrudgingly returned before sprawling on top of Steve in revenge. After all, Steve was much more comfortable than the floor.

Steve accepted Tony’s dead weight on top of him with grace, one hand reaching up to play through Tony’s hair as the other stroked down Tony’s back, and Tony reveled in the easy happiness of being in Steve’s arms.

Tony felt his eyes slipping closed, content to bask in the excellent afterglow when Steve’s hand on his back paused mid stroke.

“Is that… pie on the ceiling?”

Tony jerked up and out of Steve’s arms. “No, of course not,” Tony lied, scrambling to his feet. He needed to get Steve out of this kitchen  _ immediately _ .

Steve smiled and following Tony, got to his feet. “Okay, Tony. Whatever you say,” Steve said as he bent over to retrieve and pull on his pants.

Tony watched with avid interest, enjoying the way the muscles in Steve’s back shifted and admiring what was possibly the firmest, most sculpted ass he’d ever seen. Tony wanted to do bad, dirty, likely still-illegal-in-some-states things to that ass.

Steve straightened and turned, buttoning his jeans and Tony stepped closer, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Steve’s pants and pulling him closer. He let his eyes trail down Steve’s body. “Wanna get out of here, handsome?” Tony asked with his best sleazy grin.

Steve grinned. “Are you hitting on me?” he asked, hands cupping Tony’s hips.

“Yeah, is it working?” Tony said. He trailed a finger down Steve’s chest and watched his gaze darken.

“Take me to bed, Tony.”

Tony arched a brow. “I hope you don’t mean literally because there is no way I’m carrying you… Unless you give me time to go get the armor.” 

_ Now there’s an idea _ , Tony thought, running a finger over the edge of Steve’s jeans,  _ Steve and the armor _ . Tony flipped his hand, grinding the heel against Steve’s rapidly hardening cock. Damn, Tony was going to have a lot of fun with that super-soldier refractory period.

The hands on his hips tightened. “I could carry  _ you _ ,” Steve said.

Tony paused his teasing and took a hasty step backwards. “Don’t you fucking dare, Rogers,” Tony said, backing further away.

“I think we’re on a first name basis by now, don’t you?” Steve said with a grin as he prowled closer. 

“Gonna have to catch me first,” Tony said and made a break for it.

\-------

Steve deposited Tony on the bed. 

Tony laughed breathlessly as he propped himself up on his elbows, watching Steve. “Got you,” Steve said, kneeling on the bed and crawling over him.

“Mmhm,” Tony murmured, curling a hand into Steve’s hair and tugging his head down. “You do,” he said catching Steve’s lips in kiss. 

This time there was no violent urgency, just a wicked-hot burn that set Tony’s nerves singing. Steve licked into Tony’s mouth and Tony opened for him with a sigh, sinking back onto the pillows.

Steve followed him down, his body pressing against Tony’s as their tongues tangled. Tony arched into Steve and Steve rocked down in response. Tony’s hands stroked down Steve’s back to grip his ass, encouraging the motion. Their hips worked together in a leisurely grind. Each shift sent shivery sparks of need down Tony’s spine and he couldn’t help the sounds pleasure he made against Steve’s mouth in between kisses.

And then Steve broke the kiss, moving to sit back on his heels. Tony tried to follow him, already missing Steve’s mouth against his, but Steve placed a hand on Tony’s chest, keeping him flat on his back.

“Just- let me?” Steve said, his eyes intent as his hands traced down Tony’s chest. 

Tony settled back, waiting to see what Steve wanted. Apparently, what Steve wanted was to ruck up Tony’s tank top and kiss and lick his way across Tony’s abs. 

Tony raised his arms and Steve took the invitation to fully strip off Tony’s shirt. No longer covered, the light of the arc reactor shone bright, turning the air between them blue. So focused on Steve, Tony had managed to forget about the arc reactor. Now he covered it with a hand - an instinctive defensive reaction left over from the few times Tony had slept with someone after Afghanistan. 

Steve caught his hand. “Don’t,” he said and leaned down to kiss the edge of the reactor, his lips lingering. 

“Steve,” Tony gasped and it was almost a sob.

Steve pressed a series of kisses along the edge of the reactor and each one felt like a brand. Lifting his head, Steve met Tony’s eyes and answered the unspoken question there. “It’s a part of you. It’s one of the most important parts of you.”

Tony pushed himself up so they were both kneeling on the bed and cupped Steve’s face. He felt full to the brim, his chest tight with emotion. “God, I love you,” Tony said. The words felt inadequate; insufficient to describe how integral Steve was to him, but they seemed to be enough for Steve. His gaze softened and his mouth curled in small, radiant smile. 

Tony didn’t know who moved first but then they were kissing again. It was slow and sweet until it wasn’t, desire flaring to life again between them as their kiss deepened.

“I want to fuck you, can I?” Steve asked in between searing kisses.

Heat rushed through Tony at the thought of having Steve inside of him, claiming him. It was stupid and primal and Tony wanted it more than he wanted his next breath. He couldn’t help the needy sound he made as he rolled his hips against Steve’s. “Yes. Fuck, yes,” he panted against Steve’s lips.

Steve pulled back from Tony to strip out of his jeans and Tony did the same, stopping to grab lube from his bedside drawer and deposit on the bed. Within moments they were both kneeling back on the bed, this time with no clothes between them. 

His lips parted, Steve’s heavy-lidded gaze raked over Tony and Tony felt it like a physical touch. The way Steve looked at him - all scorching intensity and barely restrained hunger - was heady. It him feel good. It made him feel powerful.

“Tony, you look-” Steve said and trailed off, his hand reaching out to roam across Tony’s chest as if he couldn’t stand to not be touching Tony. A thumb brushed across one of Tony’s nipples making him start and then one of Steve’s broad, warm hand wrapped around Tony’s half-hard cock and gave it a firm squeeze. 

Tony’s breath caught and his hands flew up grip Steve’s shoulders as he steadied himself, muscles tense. Tony was sensitive and getting hard so soon after coming almost hurt. Steve’s hand on his cock rode the line between pleasure and pain but Tony chased greedily after the feeling, nails digging into Steve’s shoulder with each stroke Steve gave him.

Steve leaned in to nose at Tony’s neck as he expertly worked Tony’s cock. “You didn’t let me do this last time,” Steve murmured as he fisted Tony’s cock. “Touch you.” Steve’s tongue swiped over the sweat-damp skin beneath Tony’s ear before pulling Tony’s earlobe into his mouth for a quick suck. “Taste you.”

Tony shuddered at the sensation, his breaths coming in sharp rasps, and he felt dizzy with want. It was quite possible that sex with Steve would eventually kill him, but God, what a way to go.

“Let me make it good for you,” Steve said, kissing his way across Tony’s throat before licking across his Adam’s apple. And then, in a tragedy of epic proportions, Steve let go of his cock. 

Tony couldn’t help the whine that escaped him as his hips bucked forward and Steve ran a soothing hand across his stomach before giving Tony a quick kiss.

“On your front,” Steve said and Tony didn’t think twice before complying, his mind deliciously blank except for one singular focus: Steve.

As Steve knelt in between Tony’s spread legs, Tony pressed his heated face into the cool sheets below and waited to see what Steve would do next. This was clearly Steve’s show. It was a new experience for Tony, who normally had to be the one in control during sex, but it felt good to let go and trust Steve would take care of him. 

The touch of Steve’s lips to his shoulder startled Tony and he twitched, muscles tensing and releasing. The next kiss was beneath the first one and the one after that lower still and Tony relaxed into it, each warm press of Steve’s lips a bright shock of sensation.

Steve left a trail of kisses down Tony’s back until he reached Tony’s ass. Then, Steve’s mouth was replaced by his hands. Hot, calloused hands gripped his cheeks, kneading as Steve pushed them together and pulled them apart.

Tony couldn’t help the moan he let out as he pushed back into Steve’s touch.

“Beautiful,” Steve praised. Steve ran thumb down Tony’s cleft, and the brief brush across his hole made Tony desperate for more. Steve did it again, this time his thumb stopping to press against Tony’s entrance, the touch more but nowhere near what Tony needed. Steve was taking his time to explore and tease because, apparently, Steve was secretly a sadist.

“Steve,” Tony pleaded.

Steve let out a huff of laugher and then leaned down to trace Tony’s rim with his tongue before coming back for a proper lick.

Taken by surprise, Tony shouted, his hands twisting into the sheets of the bed as he bucked, his legs instinctively spreading for more. Steve moved his hands to grip Tony’s hips, holding him in place, and then Steve’s warm, slick tongue was back, licking across his hole. 

Tony’s mind went blank as pleasure pulsed through him. Each swipe of Steve’s tongue was a revelation and when Steve sucked at Tony’s rim, Tony keened.

“Oh, fuck,” Tony said, faintly.

Tony’s hole was wet and hot and he could feel it softening, opening under Steve’s tongue. Tony felt flushed and desperate. He wanted to writhe, to grind against the sheets beneath him, and to move back and ride Steve’s tongue but Steve’s strong hold on him kept him still and at Steve’s mercy.  

Steve’s tongue pressed at his entrance, sliding inside. Steve fucked his hole with his tongue and Tony sobbed. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. His hole felt open and empty, twitching with need. His cock was hard and leaking and he was needed  _ something _ \- friction, pressure, anything that would ease the ache inside of him. His nerves felt raw and overloaded with sensation. If Steve didn’t fuck him soon, Tony thought he might die.

“Please,” Tony groaned, needing more.

Steve pulled away from him - mouth and hands leaving Tony. It was only for a few moments and Tony had asked for it but it was unbearable. Tony heard the snap of the lube bottle and it felt like an eternity before Steve was back, slick fingers brushing against his entrance before finally pushing in.

“Fuck, yes,” Tony hissed, reveling at the relief of finally having something inside him, stretching him just right. Steve working his fingers in and out of Tony at a slow, deliberate pace that drove Tony crazy. 

“More,” Tony gritted out and when Steve didn’t seem like he would listen, Tony pushed himself to his hands and knees and rocked back, fucking himself on Steve’s fingers.

“Fuck, Tony,” Steve cursed.

Tony grinned. He knew what he must look like, back arched and legs spread as he rode Steve’s fingers. God, Steve’s fingers inside him felt amazing. Every so often, Steve would crook them and graze Tony’s prostate, making Tony moan raggedly and thrust back even harder against the fingers inside him.

Tony could feel the pleasure building inside of him and he had to fight against the urge to stroke his throbbing cock. He gripped the sheets so tight his knuckles hurt. Tony knew if he started touching himself, he wouldn’t be able to stop and he didn’t want to come yet. Tony wanted to come with Steve inside him.

“Now Steve, please, you have to,” Tony begged. He needed Steve to fuck him. Now. He was desperate for it.

“Condom?” Steve asked, his voice hoarse. It was the first thing Steve had said in a while and he sounded destroyed, like he too was teetering on the edge of his breaking point.

“No,” Tony said, looking back and locking eyes with Steve, “I want to feel it.” 

Steve groaned, and his hands on Tony’s hips spasmed, clenching tight. Tony hoped it would bruise. He wanted to be able to look at the marks tomorrow and remember this moment. 

Steve moved and Tony felt the head of Steve’s slick cock against his eager hole. And then Steve pushed into him with a slow but inexorable thrust. 

“Oh,” Tony breathed, his eyes fluttering shut at the exquisite feeling of finally having Steve inside of him, stretching and filling him perfectly.

Steve pulled back and thrust in again with a rasped, “God, Tony. The way you feel-”

A few careful thrusts and it wasn’t enough. Steve’s arm snaked across Tony’s chest and he pulled Tony up so they were both kneeling, Tony’s legs spread on the outside of Steve’s as he settled in Steve’s lap. With the change in position Steve’s cock slid even deeper inside of him and Tony arched into sensation with a cry. His hand flew up to fist in Steve’s hair as he tried to anchor himself.

And then Steve really started moving, using the power of his thighs to fuck up into Tony with barely-restrained ferocity.

“Yes, yes,” Tony chanted as he turned his head to meet Steve’s lips in scorching kiss. Steve’s lips were ardent and slick against his. Steve’s tongue drove into Tony’s mouth and Tony chased it hungrily.

Tony was almost delirious from how good it was. Every ruthless thrust dragged Steve’s cock right against his prostate, sending bursts of white-hot bliss through him each time. It was too much, the pleasure overwhelming and Tony didn’t want it to be over yet. With a cry, Tony fell forward, Steve’s cock slipping out of him as he collapsed on the bed.

“Steve,” Tony whimpered, not sure what he was asking for but needing Steve to make it better.

Steve shushed him, running soothing hands along his sides, and followed him down. He arranged Tony on his side, spooned up behind him, and then steadily pushed back in.

It was exquisite like this. Steve’s thrusts were slow, but hard and perfect. Tony felt surrounded by Steve. Steve pressed all along his back, his arms holding Tony close as rocked into him. Steve’s lips and teeth against Tony’s neck as he arched it back. 

Tony had no leverage like this. Steve was in control and all Tony could do was lie there and take it. The thought made him shiver.

As their pace slowed, the air between them grew heavy. It was unbearably tender. Intimate. Part of Tony wished he could see Steve’s eyes but the other, larger part of him preferred this - Steve completely enveloping him. It made Tony feel safe, cherished, worshiped.

The light of Tony’s arc reactor was brightest light in the room and it turned everything a warm blue. The only sounds were their shared gasps and slick slide of their heated bodies as they moved together. Tony drowned in the sensations. Steve’s arms felt like the only things keeping him tethered.

“I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” Tony gasped. This- this was something different. Something more than sex or fucking.

“Me neither,” Steve said and Tony turned to claim Steve’s mouth in fiercely sweet kiss.

As Steve rocked into him, his hand trailed down Tony’s chest, lower and lower until it closed around Tony’s cock.

The touch was a shock and Tony knew it was the beginning of the end. He could feel himself starting to spool apart, his desperate attempts to hold himself together crumbling in the face of his mounting need. And then Tony couldn’t hold it back anymore. With a bitten-off, “Steve,” his orgasm roared through him, obliterating his senses and leaving him stunned.

Behind him, Tony was dimly aware of Steve cursing. All it took was one, two, three more thrusts before Steve came inside him with a cry, Tony’s name an answering promise on his lips.

Tony was left dazed in the wake of a pleasure so intense it had almost been painful. He barely registered Steve pulling out of him and rolling him on his back. He felt unmoored, adrift in the wake of his stunning climax. 

The first thing Tony truly registered was the gentle press of lips to his own. Abruptly, everything snapped back into focus. Tony blinked only to find Steve leaning over him, flushed, sated and beautiful.

“Hey,” Steve said, voice soft as he stroked a thumb across one of Tony’s cheekbones. “You okay?”

Tony stared at Steve, the love of his life. Tony was Steve’s and Steve was Tony’s. What they had just shared definitively proved that. Soulmates or not, it didn’t matter. 

“I’m perfect,” Tony said, and pulled Steve down for another kiss.

\-------

“I didn’t think this was going to happen,” Steve said. 

After a lot of kissing, they had both cleaned up and then gotten back into bed. Tony had once again appropriated Steve’s chest as his pillow and had been contemplating falling asleep, already halfway there thanks to the fingers skimming along his back, when Steve’s comment broke the gentle silence that had fallen between them. Midnight was a good time for confessions and this one made Tony’s chest hurt.

“Because you left,” Steve continued, “And as the weeks went by and you still didn’t come back, I thought maybe I was wrong. That maybe I’d imagined it - that it was all in my head, what I felt between us. I thought- I thought I’d be waiting for you forever.”

Tony sat up, sheets pooling around his waist. He wanted to see Steve’s face. “Fuck, Steve, I’m-” Tony paused, trying to find the right words. “It was never about you, if that makes sense. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. I wouldn’t have trusted anyone. I’ve been fucked up about soulmates for so long that it took me a while to be able to wrap my head around the idea that anyone - let alone you - could want me without being my soulmate.”

Steve sat up too and cupped Tony’s face. “I meant what I said. I don’t want them if they’re not you.”

And here, in the quiet dark of his bedroom, Tony finally believed him. He believed Steve would stay. He believed he was worth Steve staying.

Steve smiled, the small, bright smile Tony was beginning to think of as Steve’s  _ Tony  _ smile. “I guess this,” Steve said, laying a palm over Tony’s arc reactor, “will have to be enough soul-light for the both of us.”

Tony pressed his forehead against Steve’s as he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the suspicious burning in them. “You’re such a sap,” he said and the words came out terribly fond.

“Just for you,” Steve said, brushing a sweet kiss across Tony’s lips before pulling Tony with him as he lay back down.

“Just for me,” Tony repeated, hiding his smile in Steve’s neck.

Here, in Steve’s arms, Tony felt safe enough for a confession of his own. “I didn’t think I’d get to have this.” He’d thought- well, he’d thought he was going to be alone. He’d thought a life of loneliness was what he’d deserved.

“You do. You get to have it. You get to keep it, if you want,” Steve said, his arms tightening around Tony and holding him close. A beat of silence. “Tony, you’re sure about this, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice vulnerable.

Tony flinched as he silently cursed himself once more for making Steve doubt how Tony felt about him. Tony met Steve’s eyes. “I’m sure. I want to be happy and you make me happy.” For the first time in a long time, Tony felt like he deserved happiness. He felt whole. Not broken, not lacking. He felt like he could live up to the person Steve had described when he’d told Tony why he was in love with him.

“I’m sure too,” Steve said and Tony grinned.

“I mean,” Tony said, settling back against Steve’s chest and starting to trace random patterns across it with his fingers, “Will I freak out somewhere down the line, think I don’t deserve you, and do something idiotic like try to break up with you and accept ABC’s standing offer to let me be the next Bachelor? Yes. But I know you’ll be there to talk me off the ledge.” 

“Always,” Steve promised.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: This chapter will be easy to write! Sex isn’t the point of this story so I will make the smut sequences short and sweet!!  
> Me to me: Make this the second longest chapter yet at 6k and make it all porn which always takes you twice as long to write.  
> Anyways, sorry it took me so long to update! I hope you guys like it, I tried to balance the smut and the feels and hopefully there was the right amount of both. As always, I’ll try to be quicker with the next chapter. Love you all and thanks for your continued support, kudos, and kind words <3 <3  
> Finally a big thanks/shout out to my beta @ishipallthings for making this chapter infinitely better!!


	10. Chapter Ten

Tony woke gradually. The first thing he noticed was the light streaming through the windows and playing across the white sheets. The second thing he noticed was the warmth of the body pressed against his. The third thing he noticed was that this wasn’t a dream.

Tony opened his eyes to find bright blue ones staring back.  _ Steve _ .

“How long have you been awake?” Tony asked, his voice slow and sleep-rough, before he buried his face in the crook of Steve’s neck and let his eyes flutter closed again. Time seemed relaxed, minutes passing as slow as the drip of honey. Tony never wanted to leave the safe circle of Steve’s arms.

“A while. Didn’t want to wake you up,” Steve murmured. His lips ghosted along Tony’s forehead in a light kiss.

Tony hummed in response, eyes still closed as he inhaled against the skin of Steve’s neck. Steve smelled good. Sleep soft but with a hint of salt - a reminder of their exertions the night before. Tony’s tongue flicked out for a taste and Steve started, nearly dislodging him 

Tony grumbled in displeasure and slitted his eyes open to glare at Steve, who smiled at him with crinkled eyes and barely-there dimples. He then kissed Tony properly, lips sweet and firm before using Tony’s distraction to pull away and roll out of bed.

“Traitor,” Tony accused, left bereft and alone on the cooling sheets.

“I’ll be right back,” Steve promised, bending over to kiss Tony one more time, like he couldn’t quite help it, before pulling back and walking to the bathroom.

Tony admired the view until it was interrupted by the closing of the bathroom door. Now lying directly in a beam of light, Tony kicked off the sheet covering him and basked in the simple warmth of the sun on his naked skin. He then rolled onto his back and stretched, arms above his head and back arched. Tony held the stretch for long seconds, and the aches left over from last night made themselves known. 

Tony relaxed and trailed a lazy hand down his chest to press fingers into the bruises smudged against his hips. He gasped at the resultant sparks of pleasure-pain and his cock, already half-hard, swelled even further. It was easy to move his hand lower, curl fingers around his morning hardness and stroke, unable to stop the hitch of his hips as he chased the sensation.

“God, Tony. You should come with a warning label.”

Tony’s eyes flew open and fixed on Steve, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, eyes dark as he watched Tony.

Tony could become addicted to the way Steve looked at him. Steve looked at him like Tony was everything. Like he wanted to devour him whole. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. Captivating. Desired. Necessary.

“Like ‘warning: do not touch?’” Tony asked, “Seems a little counterintuitive.” 

Steve prowled closer and lifted a knee onto the edge of the bed. He skimmed fingers down Tony’s chest in a barely-there touch before drawing them back right before he reached Tony’s cock. “More like ‘warning: touch once and you’ll never want to stop,’” Steve said.

“Well, good thing I don’t want you to stop,” Tony said, catching Steve’s hand and tugging.

Steve let out a breathless laugh and barely managed to catch himself as he fell on top of Tony, arms on either side of Tony’s head and Steve’s smiling face mere inches away from his. 

Tony, never one to waste an opportunity, slipped one hand behind Steve’s neck and tugged him into a kiss.

\-------

They decided to not tell the rest of team. Or rather, Tony asked Steve if they could keep the news of their new relationship quiet. After a beat of silence, Steve agreed, a furrow between his brows.

Tony smoothed it away with his fingers. “It’s not-,” Tony paused, wanting to get the words right. “This is new, for both of us, and I want it to be just ours for a while. Okay?”

Steve’s eyes softened. “Okay,” he echoed.

\-------

Obviously, everyone found out within a month.

Tony should have done a better job hiding their relationship, but he was too happy to put genuine effort into concealing it. Now that Tony had complete, unbarred access to Steve’s body he wanted to use said access all of the time. In short, they were having a lot of ridiculous, fantastic sex.

Tony blamed the following for his and Steve’s failure to keep the fact that they were dating a secret:

One, the way Steve looked without a shirt. Also the way Steve looked in a shirt, especially since his shirts were always two sizes too small. The way Steve looked in any clothing at all, really. Okay, maybe just  _ Steve _ . 

Two, how Tony kept having to come up with reasons to drag Steve away from everyone else in order to kiss him. As time went on, the reasons got more and more ridiculous.

Three, one third of the Avengers were real-life spies, so his chances of hiding anything from them for a prolonged period had been slim from the beginning.

In the end, it was Tony’s single minded pursuit of caffeine that was their downfall.

After about three weeks of getting used to waking up with Steve, soft and sleep-warm in his bed, Tony woke up cold and alone.

“J?” He asked, not awake enough to fully form the question.

“Captain Rogers went to the communal kitchen as you were out of milk for coffee.”

“Ugh, fine,” Tony said. He rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants which, judging by the length, were likely Steve’s, and went looking for his super-soldier.

Tony yawned as he walked into the kitchen, still foggy from sleep, but perked up at the sight of Steve standing in front of the coffee maker. 

Steve turned and when he saw Tony in the doorway, he smiled all soft and fond before extending a hand holding a mug of coffee. 

“God, I love you,” Tony said fervently, nearly tripping on the too long pants as he quickly crossed the room and claimed the mug. He drained a good half of the cup - the coffee made exactly the way Tony liked - before refocusing on Steve, who was looking at Tony with wide eyes.

“What? Are you looking for a proper thank you?” Tony asked, grinning as he took a step closer and wound a hand around Steve’s dog tags. “Because that can be arranged,” he said, tugging Steve forward into a kiss.

Steve’s lips were still and unmoving under his and Tony didn’t like that at all. He nipped at Steve’s bottom lip and after a beat, Steve finally responded. His mouth opened under Tony’s, warm and welcoming, and his arm snaked around Tony’s waist to pull him closer. The kiss rapidly turned dirty, and Tony was contemplating dragging Steve back to bed when the loud  _ crash  _ of something shattering caused Tony to start backwards.

There, sitting on a counter on the opposite wall, was Clint. Clint, who was staring at them with his mouth agape, the shattered remains of a bowl of cereal on the kitchen floor in front of him.

Tony took a hasty step backward from Steve.

“Clint! How long would you say you’ve been sitting there?” Tony asked, his mind racing with what he could bribe Clint with to keep this quiet.

“What the actual fuck!?” yelled Clint and a moment later, Natasha appeared in the doorway.

“Well, shit,” Tony said as any hope of keeping this from the rest of the team flew right out the window.

Natasha’s eyes flicked between Tony and Steve before settling on Clint and the remains of his cereal bowl at his feet.

“Tony and Steve are fucking!” yelled Clint.

Silence. 

Tony sighed. “Yes, we’re fucking,” he confirmed.

“We’re not just fucking. We’re together,” Steve added, threading his fingers through Tony’s.

Tony grinned at him.  _ Sap _ .

“I knew it,” said Clint. “You’ve both been acting weird for a while now.” 

“Shut up, you did not know,” said Natasha. “You thought Tony was dying again.”

“Wow,” Tony said. 

Steve looked at him, concerned.

“I’m not dying,” Tony reassured him, squeezing his hand, “Clint is an idiot.”

“Hey!” said Clint.

“No, no. Tony’s right. You are an idiot,” said Natasha. “I’ve known for over a week.”

“You knew?” Clint exclaimed, sounding betrayed as he rounded on Natasha.

“In the middle of training last week, Tony said he had to go  _ feed his cat _ and asked Steve to come and help.”

“Yeah, so?” 

“Tony doesn’t have a cat,” Natasha pointed out.

“Not my best lie, I’ll give you that,” Tony said, “Although in my defense, that was the day Steve decided to spar shirtless, so that one’s on him. He knew what would happen.” Tony was defenseless in the face of Steve’s abs. The next time they fought HYDRA, Steve should just fight them shirtless. The ensuing distraction of their enemies would win them the battle.

It was then that Sam and Bruce appeared in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” asked Bruce.

“Yeah, it’s too early in the morning for this much screaming,” said Sam.

“Not if we make it back to bed,” Tony muttered low enough so only Steve could hear and was rewarded with a choked-off laugh from him.

“Tony and Steve are together,” Natasha said, bringing Bruce and Sam up to speed.

“Oh, cool,” said Sam, “We’re allowed to talk about it now?”

“Okay. How the fuck did  _ you  _ know?” Clint asked, exasperated.

“Three days ago after that thing with the mutant lizards, Steve said he needed to ‘debrief’ Tony privately in his quarters. There was no heterosexual explanation for the way he was looking at Tony when he said ‘debrief.’”

“We did need to debrief,” Steve said, his cheeks flushed.

“Aw, come on man, we don’t need to hear about your kinky, role-playing foreplay,” Sam protested.

Tony grinned. “Are you sure? Because this one time Steve-” 

Steve slapped a hand over Tony’s mouth, cutting off his words and ruining his fun. Tony wondered how much redder he could make Clint’s face turn by the end of this conversation.

“ _ Thank you _ , Steve” Clint said before turning to Bruce. “Did you know, too?”

“Um, yes? Tony agreed to wear a pulse monitor for 24 hours for one of my experiments and there were some interesting… spikes in his heart rate after he and Steve left to ‘discuss new modifications’ for Steve’s uniform.”

“Whoops,” Tony said, remembering that ‘discussion,’ which had involved a lot less talking about Steve’s uniform and a lot more of Steve wearing his uniform, bending Tony over his lab bench, and fucking him so thoroughly Tony saw stars.

Thor was the last to enter the kitchen. “Good morning! Are we all breakfasting together?” Thor took in Steve and Tony, standing together hand in hand. “Oh, I see! We are finally celebrating Steve and Tony’s relationship. Congratulations, my friends!” He exclaimed, pulling Steve and a laughing Tony into an exuberant embrace.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Even Thor?” Tony heard Clint whine to Natasha behind him.

\-------

Having the team know was easy. They were Tony’s family. Of course they were happy for him and Steve. Having the rest of the world know? That was much more complicated. 

The rest of the world would likely see his and Steve’s relationship as twisted and  _ wrong _ . After all, Steve and Tony weren’t soulmates. To be in a serious, committed relationship with someone who wasn’t your soulmate was practically unheard of for celebrities and other high profile individuals. And when it happened, it was always a scandal. Something to be denied. Something to be hidden. Something to be ashamed of.

If the press and the public found out about them, Tony knew the ensuing fallout could have the power to tear him and Steve apart.

Tony knew he could take the resulting infamy. His name had been raked through the mud by the media ever since he was teenager. He was used to terrible things being said and written about him. What Tony didn’t know was if Steve could take it. Steve, who was universally loved. Steve, who so many people looked up to as a role model. The backlash against him - the perfect American, masculine ideal - would be quick and vicious.

Tony knew a few bad articles or news segments wouldn’t be enough to make Steve break up with him. But he also knew the attacks would never stop. There would always be someone who had a problem with their relationship. And how long would it take Steve to realize it was much easier to not be with Tony than it was to be with him?

Tony tried to tell himself it didn’t matter if the rest of the world found out. He tried to tell himself that what he and Steve had was stronger than anyone’s hate or disapproval. But the insidious voice in the back of his head always whispered back,  _ Broken. You’re broken. Only your soulmate could ever love you back. This thing with Steve is never going to last. He’s going to leave, eventually. _

Tony tried to drown out the voice with Steve’s smile, with Steve’s laugh, with Steve’s kisses, and with the way he and Steve slept intertwined. Most days, it worked. Then, one day, it didn’t.

\-------

It was their first “date.” Tony thought that watching a movie in the tower and then having enthusiastic, athletic sex counted as “dates,” but no, apparently they needed to “leave the Tower, Tony” for it to be considered a proper date. Tony would have been happy to stay wrapped up with Steve safe inside Avengers tower, but Steve had insisted on taking Tony out. 

He’d looked at Tony with those big, blue eyes and said “ _ Please _ ?” all soft and sweet and Tony had folded like a cheap suit.

Steve took him back to the diner Tony had taken him to after the first time they’d sparred because he was a giant sap and a terrible romantic and Tony loved him so much it was hard to breathe sometimes. It was lovely and perfect except Tony couldn’t fucking make himself relax and enjoy it. All throughout dinner, Tony was on edge. He couldn’t stop wondering if anyone recognized them, if someone was watching, if he would wake up tomorrow with pictures of him and Steve splashed across the fronts of tabloids.

They decided to walk back to the tower. It was a gorgeous night and Tony was smiling and laughing, right up until Steve’s fingers brushed against his.

Tony moved his hand away, intending to put it in his pocket, but Steve was quicker.

He reached to grasp Tony’s hand, but Tony just managed to avoid Steve’s grip. 

Whatever Steve had been saying trickled away into a heavy silence. Steve turned to look at Tony, his gaze assessing. Eyes locked on his, Steve leaned forward, clearly intending to capture Tony’s lips in a kiss. His eyes held a spark of challenge. 

Tony wanted it so badly he ached. He didn’t want to hide this. He wanted to answer the dare in Steve’s gaze. He wanted to kiss Steve here, on this dusk-dark street in the middle of New York, without a single care of what everyone else thought. But he couldn’t.

Tony reached out, stopping Steve with a hand to his chest.

Steve’s eyes flashed, first with anger and then with hurt. The anger, Tony could deal with. The hurt? That made him want to look away. Guilt curled heavy and dark in his gut. He’d promised himself when he and Steve got together he would do everything in his power to never hurt Steve again. And here Tony was, hurting him.

“Not here,” Tony said, the words rasped out, “Wait until we get back to the tower.”

Steve nodded tightly, his mouth set in an unhappy line. The rest of their walk balk was silent, the tension thick between them.

\-------

By silent, unspoken agreement they went to Tony’s floor.

_ Our floor,  _ thought Tony. These days, Steve spent little to no time in his own set of rooms. Traces of Steve could be found all over Tony’s apartment, whether it was his toothbrush (an Iron Man toothbrush Tony had originally bought as a joke) in Tony’s bathroom, his t-shirts and button downs hanging next to Tony’s suits in the closet, or his favorite cereal in Tony’s kitchen. 

Every time Tony noticed something new of Steve’s in his - their - apartment, he felt a bright warmth spark in his chest. They were happy, and slowly beginning to weave their lives together, so obviously, it was the perfect time for Tony to ruin everything. 

Panic clawed at him, stealing the air from his lungs and making his pulse pound. Was this how it ended?

Tony strode into the dimly-lit living room, tugging off his tie and throwing it on end table. He heard Steve follow him in to the room. Up here, away from the background noise of the city, the silence between them was deafening. 

Back still turned to Steve, Tony gripped the back of an armchair, his head bent and eyes closed. “Steve-” Tony started.

“Are you ashamed of this?” Steve interrupted, his words blunt and angry.

Tony spun around, his lips parted in surprise. Steve was standing several paces away, arms crossed tight over his chest and his expression cold and closed off. Tony yearned to cross the space between them, to stroke a soothing hand across tense muscles and feel them loosen under his hands. It hurt that he couldn’t, that Steve wouldn’t want him to.

“God, Steve-” Tony ran an agitated hand through his hair. “ _ No _ . Of course I’m not ashamed of us.”

“Then why?” Steve demanded.

Tony wasn’t proud his first instinct was to lie. He’d been lying for years - to the world, to his friends, to himself. It was second nature at this point. But Tony was tired, exhausted. He didn’t want to lie anymore.

He took a breath. “I’m scared. Terrified, really. Do you know what’s going to happen when the world finds out about us? They’re going to find a million and one reasons why what we’re doing is wrong. And what if-” Tony broke off, blinking away the stinging in his eyes, his voice thick with emotion.

“And what if one of those reasons is convincing?” Steve finished, his voice soft.

Tony looked at Steve. His body had lost some of its rigidity and the harsh line of his mouth had subsided into a troubled frown. 

“Some of them are going to be pretty compelling,” Tony said.

“Who exactly do you think is going to be convinced? Do you plan on walking away from this?” Steve asked.

“What? Steve, I’m not going anywhere.” Tony thought that was obvious. In what world would  _ Tony _ ever be the one to end their relationship?

“Well neither am I!” Steve exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Steve-” Tony started, confusion coloring his voice.

“No. You’re so- God Tony, sometimes I want to strangle you,” Steve said.

“Excuse me?” Tony asked, incredulous. 

Steve glared at him. “Did you lie when you said you didn’t care we weren’t soulmates? That you loved me and wanted me regardless?” he demanded.

“ _ No _ . Obviously not-”

“Then stop thinking I lied when I made you the same promise!” Steve practically shouted.

Tony’s lips parted in shock.

Steve stepped close, his hands cupping Tony’s face. “Tony, there are days when I still can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you. I love you. I will always love you. Nothing and nobody can change that.” His gaze held Tony’s as he spoke, his voice soft but confident, leaving no room for doubt.

Tony closed his eyes. He wrapped his hands around Steve’s wrists, anchoring himself. “I wouldn’t survive losing you,” he said, the words achingly honest. 

“You’re not going to lose me. I promise. Do you love me?” Steve asked.

Tony’s eyes flew open. Steve’s mouth was quirked into a small smile. “Don’t be an idiot,” Tony said, his own lips curving up.

Steve grinned. “Then fuck everyone else.” 

\-------

There wasn’t a press release or an official announcement. They simply didn’t hide it. They acted like they were two normal people in love. Tony let Steve take him on dates, hold his hand, and kiss him whenever he wanted.

The first few times they acted like a couple outside of the safety of the tower, Tony was tense. His nerves were stretched taut as he waited for the whispers, the stares, the camera flashes. But astoundingly, it seemed like no one was watching them. No one cared. It was  _ amazing _ . Tony knew it wouldn’t last forever, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Tony relaxed and started stealing kisses of his own. He began to take Steve on dates. Or rather, Tony called them dates. Steve called them “extravagant wastes of money, Tony.” It turned out that the combination of a lifetime of untapped romantic gestures and literally billions of dollars had some interesting results.

Tony rented out the Met for the night and bemusedly trailed after Steve as he enthusiastically tried to educate Tony about art and ignored Tony’s excellent art-related pick-up lines (“I want to kiss you, but they told me I’m not allowed to touch the masterpieces”).

Tony flew them out to his private island in his private jet for a weekend getaway. Tony got a tan, watched Steve walk around mostly naked for 48 hours, and learned quite a few things about the logistics of having sex on a beach.

Tony even contemplated buying the Dodgers and getting them shipped back to New York, but that seemed excessive even for him.

Tony spoiled Steve and Steve- well, Steve indulged him.

Quite simply, they were happy.

\-------

Bruce was the one to tell him when news of the video broke.

Tony was in his workshop, engrossed in the current research on nanoparticle technology, when Bruce stumbled through the doorway, disheveled and out of breath

“Have you seen it?” Bruce demanded.

“If you’re referring to the cult classic, the 1990 miniseries adaptation of Stephen King’s ‘It,’ then yes, I’ve seen ‘It,’” Tony said.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “JARVIS, please play the video that’s currently trending #1 on Twitter.”

“Of course, Dr. Banner,” JARVIS replied.

Tony inhaled sharply. He didn’t have to see the video; he knew what it would show. He’d been preparing for this moment for weeks.  
A screen opened over Tony’s workbench and the video began. It was clearly shot by an amateur, likely on a smartphone. It showed two men walking on a street until the taller one snagged the other around the waist, bringing them to halt. They talked for a moment. The video didn’t pick up sound, but the taller man was clearly seen throwing his head back in laughter. Then the shorter one rose on his tiptoes, the other man’s hands still wrapped around his waist, and kissed him. 

“Holy shit,” was heard, the words clearly uttered by whoever was recording the video, “Hooooly shiiiiit, Tony Stark is sleeping with Captain America?! DAMN, get it Stark!”

The footage was grainy and unsteady but there was no mistaking the two men in it as anyone other than him and Steve.

“Tony-” Bruce started, apprehensive.

Tony held up a hand. “J, please notify Ms. Potts of the video if she hasn’t already seen it and then go ahead and release the statement Steve and I prepared. Then send the letter to the SI board. Start sorting press inquiries and interview requests into ‘maybe,’ ‘no,’ ‘definitely not,’ and ‘only if hell freezes over.’”

“Right away, Sir,” JARVIS said.

Tony watched the video once more as it looped. It wasn’t a bad video, really. He and Steve looked… happy. Carefree. In love, even.

“Tony, are you okay?” Bruce asked.

To his surprise, Tony found that he was. “Well, at least in this video, I have all my clothes on,” he said.

Bruce smiled, small and relieved. “It’s cute. The video, I mean. It’s actually a little sickening how cute the two of you look.”

“Jealous?” Tony asked with a smirk as the doors to his lab opened once more and Steve came skidding in.

“Tony, have you seen-” Steve said, sounding frantic.

“Our video?” Tony finished, waving a hand at the screen still playing the footage on loop. “Yeah. We’re trending. Apparently our couple name is ‘Stony,’ which I think is fun, but also boring. I expected better from the internet.”

“ You seem… fine,” Steve said.

“I am fine.”

“That’s… good,” Steve said, still sounding suspicious.

“You thought I’d be freaking out!” Tony exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Steve. And, to be fair, Tony had been close to freaking out a few minutes ago.

“Well, maybe just a bit,” Steve said sheepishly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Tony stepped closer and put his hands on Steve’s chest. “Hey. I really am fine. We talked about this. We planned for this. We’re going to be okay.” As he said the words, Tony believed them. He and Steve were strong enough to get through this.

“Okay,” echoed Steve, his smile blindingly bright.

“Adorable,” cooed Bruce.

Tony flipped him the finger.

\-------

Later that night, when they were alone in the quiet dark of Tony’s room, Steve’s arms wrapped around Tony, Steve asked, “Are sure you’re okay?”

The rest of the day had been hectic. Tony spent a good portion of it with Pepper and the SI board, making sure SI would be insulated from the fallout of the news of his and Steve’s relationship as much as possible. He’d also been keeping careful track of the many responses to the video.

Predictably, there had been a large contingent of people calling them “perverted” and “disgusting” for daring to be together even though they weren’t soulmates - with most of those same people blaming Tony for somehow “corrupting” Steve. Tony already knew he would have to avoid reading those tweets and articles in the future. They were dangerously close to Tony’s own darkest views about his relationship with Steve and Tony didn’t need to see his worst fears given a voice in the New York Times opinion section.

However, in a surprising turn of events, a good number of people were  _ defending _ Steve and Tony’s relationship and using the news to share their own stories of finding love outside of soulmate bonds. It made Tony feel warm and pleased to think some people might see Steve and Tony’s relationship and use it to find the courage to be happy, with or without their soulmate.

“I’m okay,” Tony reassured Steve. “As I see it, I’m yours and you’re mine and - how did you so eloquently put it? - everyone else can go fuck themselves.”

“Language,” Steve teased and Tony snorted.

“And we actually have quite a few fans. The number of messages I’ve gotten asking one, how many abdominal muscles you really have and will I please post a picture of you shirtless, and two, if we  get married, will we hyphenate - Stark-Rogers - or will you take my name is ridiculous. But, Steve Stark  _ is _ some nice alliteration.”

Steve chuckled. “Isn’t anybody wondering if you’re going to take my name? How about Tony Rogers?”

“Honey, please, be serious.” 

A beat of silence. “Hyphenate. We should hyphenate,” Steve said.

Tony jerked his head up because Steve  _ didn’t sound like he was joking _ . Holy shit.  _ Did Steve want to get marrie-  _ Tony cut off the thought before it could fully form. The “M” word was dangerous to think about. Tony wanted it so much it hurt but he knew it was an  _ insane  _ thought to have this early in their relationship. 

But Steve didn’t look like he was joking. No. Steve looked serious. And nervous. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but he held Tony’s gaze, his eyes daring Tony to respond. 

When Tony remained speechless, his mind still racing from the implications of Steve’s words, Steve’s expression melted into a grin and he gave Tony a quick kiss, before rolling him over and spooning up behind him.

“Something to think about,” Steve said, sounding smug, “Goodnight, Tony.”

\-------

The next few weeks were rough.

The furor surrounding their relationship didn’t subside. If anything, it got worse. What started as a simple scandal kicked off a national debate on superheroes, soul-lights, and LGBTQ+ issues. Tony was all for difficult conversations and America grappling with its restrictive, heteronormative soulmate culture. What Tony didn’t like was how neither he nor Steve could step foot outside of the Tower without being harassed by literal hordes of reporters. 

Tony found it inconvenient, but he shrugged off the bright flashes of cameras and the yelled questions of paparazzi with an ease born of many, many years of practice.

Steve, on the other hand, was not coping well with the increased media attention.

About one week after kiss-gate (as Tony had taken to calling it in his head), Steve stormed into the training room, made a beeline straight for the heavy bags, and started laying into one with ferocious intensity. 

Tony watched Steve for a moment before he paused the treadmill he was on and hopped off. 

He approached Steve cautiously and when he barely glanced at Tony, he reached out with two hands to stop the swinging of the bag.

Steve landed one more hard punch, which Tony absorbed with a grunt, before he dropped his arms, his fingers still clenched into fists.

Tony let go of the bag and stepped closer. He reached for one of Steve’s hands and gently pried the fingers apart before placing a kiss in the center of Steve’s palm. “Penny for your thoughts?” Tony asked. “I have a couple million to spare.”

Steve clenched his jaw. “It’s nothing. Just the usual - the usual these days. Sam and I tried to go out for a run-”

“Oh man,” said Tony.

“Yeah, I know. But I was going insane, stuck in here.”

“I thought you wanted people to know about us,” Tony asked, his voice making it a question rather than a reproach.

“I did!” Steve said, running a hand through his hair. “But I didn’t think they’d want to know… so much,” He finished, rueful.

Tony grinned. “Oh, did the ‘who bottoms?’ guy find you too?” When Steve just looked at him blankly, Tony elaborated, “You know, the one reporter that only screams ‘who bottoms?’ Honestly, I admire the dedication. It almost makes me want to answer.” 

“Tony!”

“Calm down sweetheart, I said almost,” Tony said with an easy grin.

“I don’t like how they feel they’re entitled to our lives,” Steve said, dangerously close to pouting.

Tony understood. He hated that people thought they could pass judgement on Steve. He hated having to share Steve with the rest of the world. It was selfish, but Tony wanted to keep Steve and their relationship entirely to himself. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards for them. “I know. This sucks,” Tony said, not mincing words. “But eventually, a newer, better scandal will come along and they’ll lose interest in us. There’s not much else we can do but stick to no comment and let SI and Avengers PR take care of the rest.”

“I know, you’re right,” Steve said with a sigh. He reached out and tugged Tony close, wrapping his arms around him in tight embrace. “It’s not forever.”

Tony twined his arms around Steve and tucked his head into the crook of Steve’s neck. “Of course I’m right,” he said and he felt Steve’s huff of laughter. “And the next time you need to get out of the tower, babe, tell me. I’ll find a way to sneak you out. And barring that, I can always fly you out in the armor.” 

\-------

Two weeks after the release of the original video, JARVIS was the one to tell Tony when the second one started trending.

“Sir, I believe you will want to see this,” JARVIS said.

_ Whatever it is, it can’t be too bad _ , Tony told himself as he rolled out from underneath the Roadster and wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving black grease marks in their wake.  _ If the world were ending, the Avengers alarm would have gone off _ …  _ Probably.  _

“What’s up J?” Tony asked.

Another screen opened in mid-air and Tony wracked his brain for what he could have possibly done in the past 24 hours that would have resulted in a trending video.  _ Have I even left the tower? Have I even left my workshop? _

But when the video started playing, it was Steve’s face that appeared in the center of the screen.

In the video, Steve was surrounded by reporters that he pushed aside as he made his way through the throng to the entrance of Avengers Tower. Various questions were shouted at him, the voices of the reporters layering over each other.

“How long have you and Tony Stark been together?”

“Do you have a soulmate?”

“Should you be flaunting your relationship like this?”

“What do you have to say to all the people - and kids - who look up to you?”

Steve didn’t appear to be fazed by any of the questions, his face blank except for the slight tightening of his jaw which was only noticeable if you knew what to look for. Occasionally, Steve would throw out a “No comment.”

Steve made it to the door, security keeping the reporters back a few feet. His hand reached out, ready to pull open the doors, when one shouted question was heard over all the others.

“Captain Rogers, aren’t you worried what your soulmate will think of you when she hears about your dalliance with Tony Stark - playboy, arms dealer, alcoholic-”

Steve’s expression turned thunderous. The hand that had been about to open the door pulled back. Steve turned around to face the reporters. The corners of lips were turned down, his brows drawn together, and there was fire in his eyes.

“Oh shit,” Tony said. Tony knew that face. That was Steve’s “I’m about to fuck shit up” face.

“Tony Stark is the best man I know,” Steve said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact.

Tony’s mouth dropped open. He gripped the benchtop in front of him, his knuckles turning white. His gaze was fixed to the screen, and his breath was caught somewhere in his throat. He kept watching.

“He’s laid down his life for the world many times and he would do it again in a heartbeat,” Steve continued. “He’s a philanthropist, he’s a genius, and he’s a hero. Tony is…” Steve broke off and a small, crooked smile curled up one side of his mouth, “extraordinary. He makes me better and he makes me happy. And I think my soulmate, if they even exist, wouldn’t begrudge me that. And if they ever find me, they’re going to have a hell of a time convincing me to choose them over Tony.”

Steve expression hardened again and his eyes looked like storm clouds. “You can ask me whatever inappropriate questions you want. You can say whatever you want about me - that I’m broken, unnatural, a failure. But you  _ will  _ stay away from Tony or you’ll answer to me. Personally.” Steve’s words brooked no opposition. They demanded adherence.

The reporters in front of him had fallen silent.

“Any more questions?” Steve asked. When silence continued to reign, Steve nodded. “Good,” he said before spinning around and disappearing into the Tower.

The video cut off moments later.

Tony stood where he was, frozen. Shock swirled in his gut, mixing with a bubbling sort of euphoria, and above it all, Tony’s heart beat so hard and fast, he wondered that he couldn’t hear it. He felt high, drunk, giddy. It felt like the first time he had used the armor to fly.

Tony watched the video again. And again. And again.

On his sixth viewing, the doors to the lab opened and Steve walked in.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw what was playing on the screen in front of Tony. “Oh. So you’ve seen it,” Steve said, sounding nervous. Color rode high on his cheeks and he looked uncomfortable, embarrassed even.

Tony loved him so much it felt like drowning. Breathing felt secondary when Steve was here, standing in front of him.

“Steve-” Tony started.

“I know, I know. I should have stuck to ‘no comment.’ It’s a little-” Steve said, wincing.

“Shut up,” Tony interrupted.

Steve fell quiet, his expression tense. 

Tony launched himself at Steve, crashing their lips together. Steve stumbled a little before catching Tony, and after a moment of surprise, he returned the kiss just as enthusiastically. Tony licked into Steve’s mouth, hot and desperate. He pressed himself against Steve, raking his nails down Steve’s back and urging him closer. Tony felt like he would go mad if he didn’t feel Steve’s skin against his, if he didn’t get Steve over him, in him, surrounding him.

Tony reluctantly broke away from Steve’s mouth. “I love you so fucking much,” he said, his voice deep and rasping. “Now take me to bed. I want you to fuck me until I scream.”

Steve’s eyes went dark as he swept Tony into his arms.

\-------

Another day, another HYDRA base to dismantle.  Steve, Natasha, and Sam had done a good job of cutting off the head of HYDRA in DC, but in keeping with their name and general commitment to being a giant pain in Tony’s ass, with HYDRA, when you cut off one head, nine others appeared.

Today, Natasha, Clint, Thor, Bruce and Sam were out in the field going through the remnants of a recently abandoned HYDRA base in Belarus while Steve and Tony remained on standby at Avengers Tower.

“Hey, Tony, you might want to see this,” Bruce said over the comms. While the rest of the team swept the base, Bruce was trying see if any data could be recovered from the wiped and mostly destroyed computers found within.

“Patch me in, JARVIS,” Tony said and a moment later, the remnants of the HYDRA computer network appeared in front of him.

“Do you-”

“Yeah, I see it,” Tony said. While 99% of the data from the computers had been wiped, it appeared there was a small, heavily encrypted file cache that had been missed. 

Together, Tony and Bruce worked to decrypt and open the files. While most were corrupted and missing large chunks of data, there were able to extract a few interesting tidbits of information. Most importantly, they found veiled references to “the weapon” HYDRA had in its possession. “The weapon” HYDRA was determined to keep out of the hands of the Avengers. According to these files, it had recently been moved to a HYDRA base in-

“Where the fuck is Gakona?” Tony said.

Apparently, Gakona was a tiny town in the remote wilderness of Alaska.

“Population: 218,” Tony said. “Sounds like a happening locale. Hey Cap?” he asked, swiveling in his chair to face Steve, who was not-so-subtly hovering behind Tony’s workbench and reading everything over his shoulder. “Feel like a field trip?”

It was decided that the rest of the team would remain in Belarus and finish the sweep of the HYDRA compound there while Steve and Tony would fly up to Alaska and do preliminary recon on the HYDRA base there, if it even still existed. It was difficult to tell exactly how old the recovered data was.

He and Steve made good time to Alaska and Tony touched down the quinjet in a clearing about a mile from the coordinates of the HYDRA base. A quick flyby in the armor and then Tony was back with Steve.

“Scans of the building show it’s deserted. No signs of life inside. No obvious defenses or weaponry either. Looks like another abandoned base, Cap.”

Steve nodded tightly. “Then let’s do a sweep. Make sure there’s nothing interesting inside.”

The base was a small, low slung, single-story concrete building. From his scan, Tony knew appearances were deceptive and the base was much larger than it appeared, extending several floors underground. 

Tony and Steve entered the building from opposite entrances and carefully swept the first floor.

“Clear,” Steve said over the comms.

“Clear,” Tony affirmed. “Next level down?”

“10-4. Keep me updated on your 20.”

“Yeah, okay babe,  _ 10-4 _ ,” Tony said, rolling his eyes.

“We’re in the field, Iron Man. Let’s try and keep it professional?”

“You weren’t too interested in keeping things ‘professional’ last night,  _ Captain _ , when you tied my hands to the headboard and-”

“ _ Tony _ ,” Steve hissed.

Tony laughed. “Okay, okay. Professional. I’ll give it my best shot.”

Slowly, they made their way down, clearing level after level and finding nothing of value.

They were on sublevel 6 when Tony hit the jackpot - a room full of machinery that hadn’t been stripped. It looked like it might have once been a control room. 

“Cap, I found some computers here. Gonna stay and see if there’s anything on them,” Tony said.

“Roger that,” replied Steve. “I’ll finish sweeping the last two levels and meet you back on 6.”

Tony set to work powering up and hacking into HYDRA interface. Tony was opening the first set of files when his HUD interfaces flickered.

“Sir, I believe something is-” JARVIS said, his voice wavering before it was snuffed out.

“Tony Stark,” a new voice said, “We’ve been expecting you.”

Tony’s blood ran cold. After months spent sorting through HYDRA files, Tony knew that voice. 

“And you’ve brought the Captain. How convenient,” said Arnim Zola.

The HUD flickered again, the edges tinged with green. For a moment, Tony thought he saw Zola’s face. It should have been impossible for anyone to get past the defenses and firewalls he had in place inside the armor. It should have been impossible to bypass JARVIS. 

_ No.  _ Tony refused to let Zola take control of his armor. The thought made him sick. Fighting down a rising wave of panic, Tony didn’t reply to Zola’s words. He poured all of focus into finding the crack in his codes Zola had used to worm his way inside.

_ There _ . Tony had found the gap, but his HUD continued to flicker, switching between what Tony saw and what Zola could see - the surrounding environment in dull green ones and zeros. 

“I knew you would struggle,” Zola said, his voice gleeful. “But it’s far too late for that.” 

And that was when Tony heard the first explosion and the crash of walls collapsing.

The ceiling shook, dust swirled in the air, but the sound of the detonation was muffled. The explosion clearly had occurred several floors above.

Then the second explosion happened. This time the roar of the detonation and the subsequent crashes of crumbling walls was louder. Closer.

The HUD flickered again and this time, Tony saw a pulsing web of green lines threaded through the walls, floor, and ceiling of the room - all originating from the computer bay in front of him. 

Tony abruptly understood. The explosions had started on the first floor and would continue downwards, floor by floor, until the entire base collapsed, trapping and killing whoever was inside. First Tony. Then Steve.

Tony stopped fighting Zola. if HYDRA was inside the armor, Tony was also inside of HYDRA. The HUD now only showed green and Tony threw himself into untangling the web in front of him and stopping the explosions before they reached this floor.

It was then that Steve ran into the room. “Tony,” he shouted, “We need to go. Now!”

Another loud  _ bang _ resonated through the building and a chunk of ceiling fell to the floor with a  _ crash _ .

“Give me a minute,” Tony said, through gritted teeth. “I can stop it.”

Tony saw it. A knot in the tangle of lines in front of him. A knot that held everything together.

_ Bang.  _ Cracks spread through the ceiling and the walls.

“ _ Tony _ ,” Steve said, his voice frantic.

And  _ there _ . With one last pluck the knot unraveled. The lines of green surrounding them pulsed once more before going dark. Tony waited, listening for the next detonation, but it never came. Silence rained.

Tony let out a shaky breath of relief and yanked himself out of the HYDRA system, severing his connection to it. His HUD switched back to normal.

“Tony?” Steve asked, his voice wary.

“We’re fine. We’re going to be fine,” Tony said. “I stopped it.”

Then, Tony’s HUD display flashed green and the face of Zola appeared once more. “Not quite, Mr. Stark,” he said with a laugh.

A wave of power surged through the armor, locking the joints together. The arc reactor flared, bright and blinding. Something was wrong. Tony felt it, cold and heavy in his chest. 

And as quick as he had appeared, Zola was gone. 

JARVIS came back online. “Sir-”

“Out,” gasped Tony and the armor opened. Tony stumbled out of it and Steve caught him before he could fall to his knees. All of Tony’s limbs felt too heavy for his body. He felt weak. Sick and clammy. His pulse pounded in his ears, uneven and much too quick.

“Tony,” Steve said again, but this time, his voice was laced with barely controlled fear. “What happened to the reactor?”

That was when Tony noticed the dim light of the room was no longer tinged blue. He looked down. The arc reactor was still there, in his chest, but it was completely dark. No light. No power. Not working. It took a moment for Tony to fully process what he was seeing, for him to understand the nightmare come to life before his eyes.

“Oh,” Tony said, stupidly. He couldn’t seem to find the words to say anything else.

Steve’s eyes were wide. He looked scared, terrified. Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen Steve look afraid. It was wrong, seeing Steve look like he was about to break apart. It made Tony’s stomach roil.

“Oh,” Tony said again, his voice soft.

_ I’m going to die _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I submitted my med school applications yesterday and am posting this as a reward to myself!!! Only one more chapter to go and for anyone worried about the ending, please see the "very sappy happy ending" tag above! Much love as always to @ishipallthings for the beta <3


	11. Chapter Eleven

_ I’m going to die. _

It should have been a terrible, suffocating feeling. Instead, Tony found it familiar. Almost comforting. He’d been here before and he would be here again. Tony refused to succumb to something as pedestrian as mortality without a fight. Not now. Not when he had Stev-

_ No. _

Tony couldn’t think about Steve right now. If he thought about Steve, he might collapse. Buckle under the weight of what was happening. Tony couldn’t afford that. He needed to focus on the problem at hand.

He likely had just under 10 minutes. After Obadiah, Tony had installed a backup power source in the base of the arc reactor as a failsafe. It was small and would burn out in 13 minutes, but it meant Tony had an extra 780 seconds standing in between him and cardiac arrest, and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

There was no way they were getting out of the collapsed base in 10 minutes. Tony would have to find a way to fix this here. Without further preamble, Tony dragged the tank top he wore over his head and pulled the arc reactor out of his chest.

He swallowed against the rising nausea that seeing the arc reactor out of its place provoked and ran his fingers over it, looking for the problem. Tony could fix this. He could. Any other option was unacceptable.

Not finding anything wrong, Tony held up his StarkWatch to the reactor. “JARVIS, scan and diagnose.”

“Tony, what’s wrong? What can I-” Steve’s voice broke before he could finish his question.

Tony glanced up at him.

Steve’s eyes were fixed on the dim arc reactor in Tony’s hand, his face pale and his expression stricken.

Tony’s resolution to avoid thinking about Steve crumbled. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and cupping Steve’s cheek and stroking down his neck, pressing his fingers into the tense muscle there. Underneath his palm, Tony could feel the gallop of Steve’s pulse and slick clamminess of his skin.

“Hey. It’s going to be fine,” Tony said, hoping it wasn’t a lie. “Just be quiet for a moment and let me fix it.”

“You can fix it?” Steve asked.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m Tony Stark. I built the Iron Man armor in a cave out of a box of scraps. I can fix anything.”

“A box of scraps,” Steve echoed and the corner of his mouth tugged up in a small smile.

“Analysis finished,” JARVIS announced.

Steve caught Tony’s hand in his and squeezed it. 

It steadied Tony, having Steve there. This time, he wasn’t alone. Tony squeezed Steve’s hand back and took a breath. “Okay. Let's hear it, J.”

\-------

Tony didn’t wait for JARVIS to finish his analysis before he moved, scrambling over to the armor. Tony pressed fingers to one of the chest plates, his fingerprints opening a small compartment. Still half-listening to JARVIS rattle off his diagnosis, Tony grabbed what was inside: a brand new arc reactor core.

Always carrying a spare core was a habit left over from the days when Tony had been constantly changing the palladium cores of the reactor and today, it would save his life. Because apparently, whatever Zola had done to the armor had burned out the reactor’s core and shorted out most of the surrounding wiring. 

The question of how Zola had managed to drain the limitless energy of the reactor could wait. What mattered now was that  _ Tony could fix it _ .

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the thought as it settled in his mind. He could fix it.

He opened his eyes and met Steve’s gaze. “I can fix it.”

Steve’s eyes flashed. “Of course you can.”

Tony knelt on the dusty floor and Steve knelt with him.

Carefully, Tony pulled out the old core. He then picked up the replacement core and tried to slide it into place, but at the last moment his fingers spasmed and the core fell to the ground. Tony clenched his hand into a fist before splaying his fingers out. The tremors didn’t stop.

Tony was running out of time. He had pushed his physical symptoms to the back of mind, intent on figuring out a solution, but now that he’d focused on one, Tony couldn’t stop himself from feeling all of them. His fingers and toes were numb and the prickling sensation was slowly creeping up his limbs. His breathing was ragged and each inhalation felt like a glass shards tearing through his chest. If he went too long without blinking, his vision swam and blurred.

It was now or never.

Tony forced himself to re-focus on the arc reactor and this time, despite the trembling of his fingers, he was able to slot the new core into place. Then using the StarkWatch, he fused the shorted-out wires back together. It was a crude solution, but one that should hold until Tony could get back to his workshop.

“JARVIS?” Tony questioned.

“Inelegant but serviceable, Sir. I can detect no further problems.”

Tony grinned, relieved, and slotted the arc reactor back in his chest.

Nothing happened. The reactor stayed dark and quiet.

The smile slipped off of Tony’s face.

“JARVIS?” Tony asked again, his stomach clenching in knots.

“Sir- There are no detectable issues. The reactor should function.”

The words settled in Tony’s mind, cold and sharp. Tony looked at Steve. Steve’s hair was endearingly mussed from his helmet and a streak of dirt was smeared across his forehead. His stormy eyes were fixed on Tony’s chest, breathless and intent as he waited for Tony’s solution to work. It hurt, seeing the fragile hope in his gaze.

“Tony?”

Tony looked away. “How much time, J?”

“Approximately 3 minutes and 42 seconds, Sir.”

_ 3 minutes and 42 seconds. _ Tony could spend them futilely tinkering with the arc reactor or he could spend them with Steve. It was an easy choice, really.

Tony laid a shaking hand over Steve’s still gloved one where it rested on the dusty floor.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said.

Steve’s head snapped up, his eyes finding Tony’s. Tony watched as the realization broke on Steve’s face. It wasn’t pretty. He went deathly pale and his lips parted in mute shock.

The hand underneath Tony’s curled into a fist.

“You said you could fix it!” Steve demanded, his expression full of fire as if this was a battle he could fight.

“I tried.”

“Try again!” Steve demanded.

“I-” Tony started, but Steve cut him off.

“The team is on their way,” Steve said, the words spilling out, quick and pleading, “I commed them as soon as the first explosion went off. Isn’t there something you could- a stop-gap? Tony, you can’t just-”

Tony kissed him, soft and gentle. Steve’s lips were warm and familiar under his as he kissed back. An edge of desperation threaded through the kiss, raising its intensity. It was a good kiss. A good last kiss.

Tony pulled back, breaking the kiss, but kept his forehead pressed to Steve’s, his fingers threading through his hair. Steve’s eyes were bright with anger, with fear, with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry this is all we get,” Tony whispered, thinking about rings he’d hidden in a biometrically locked drawer in his workshop.

He’d designed them himself. Shards of silver vibranium twisting with gold shavings from the Armor. He’d had the rings ready for a few weeks now, but had been delaying, trying to come up with the best way, the perfect way to ask. _Stupid._ Tony could have proposed in the middle of a battle or at the breakfast table in his pajamas or, hell, during sex, and Steve still would have loved it. He would have said yes. And now, Tony would never get the chance to ask.

Tony blinked, trying to stop the burning in his eyes.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it would make it easier for Steve.

“Tony, please-” Steve surged forward to kiss him and this time, it was far from gentle. Steve’s teeth caught on Tony’s lip in bright spark of pain before Steve licked the iron tang of blood away. Tony’s mouth opened helplessly against the onslaught and Steve’s tongue twined desperately with his as Steve dragged him forward, pressing their bodies together. The kiss was hard and frantic. It was a plea that went unanswered. Tony’s cheeks were wet and he could taste salt on his lips.

He broke from the kiss with a gasp. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Tony said, pressing himself closer, head tucked into Steve’s neck and hands fisted in Steve’s uniform. He knew he sound like a broken record, but it was all he could think to say. 

Tony wished Steve was anywhere else but here. Steve had already lived through the loss of his mom, Bucky, and his entire world. And now, Steve would lose Tony too. Not just lose him. Steve would watch him die, once again helpless to save someone he loved.  _ Fuck _ . This would break Steve and it would be Tony’s fault.

“Promise me you’ll let the team help you, be there for you.”

He didn’t want Steve to slip away again, like he’d been close to doing when he’d first woken up. Tony needed Steve to promise him. He pulled back enough to meet Steve’s gaze. This time, at the end, there would be no terrifying, empty vacuum of space. The last thing he would see would be Steve’s eyes, blue enough to drown in. He was glad.

“Promise me you’ll be… be okay” Tony said, the strength of his voice dwindling and the last few words of his sentence coming out weak and slurred.

Was the room getting darker? Tony blinked once and again, but the greyness at the edges of his vision stayed. Steve’s face blurred. Tony’s arms felt too heavy and they dropped away from Steve. He listed to the side, swaying. Staying upright was too hard.

“ _ Tony! _ ” he heard someone shout, but the voice sounded muffled and distant. 

Tony fell to the side but the expected impact never came. Something had stopped his fall before he could hit the ground. Hands held him and gently pulled him closer until he lay cradled in someone’s lap. It felt familiar, safe. 

Tony blinked, trying to focus his gaze and Steve’s face swam into view above him. _ Steve _ . Of course. It was Steve who had caught him and pulled him close.

It was then Tony realized Steve was talking. He could hear the words, but he couldn’t seem to process them. All he knew was that Steve sounded scared. Tony didn’t want Steve to be scared.

Lifting his hand was a monumental effort, but Tony managed it, clumsily cupping Steve’s cheek for a moment before the strain became too much and he let his hand fall back down. “It’s okay. I love you,” Tony said, his voice was little more than a whisper. Talking hurt. Breathing hurt. Everything  _ hurt.  _

Tony closed his eyes, just for a moment.

“No.”

The harsh word penetrated through the fog of darkness and pain. Tony opened his eyes.

“No. There has to be something, there has to be way,” Steve said. Steve ripped off his gloves and ran his hands across Tony’s chest. As Steve’s fingers met the metal of the reactor, a flicker of blue light flashed in the dimness of the room.

Tony gasped, sensation arcing through him as his back bowed. It felt like being hit with a jolt of lightning, bright and hot. For a moment, the pain lessened and Tony felt like he could breathe again.

Steve pulled back in shock. As soon as he was no longer touching Tony, the light faded and with it the pain came flooding back. 

Tony’s vision blacked out for a brief moment. “Steve,” he choked out, but Steve was already moving, lunging forward to spread his hands across Tony’s chest.

The arc reactor flickered again before starting to glow steadily again, the blue light getting brighter and brighter the longer Steve touched him. 

The pain receded until Tony couldn’t feel it anymore. His breaths came easily again and the racing beat of his heart calmed. Sensation in his limbs started coming back with an uncomfortable stinging. His vision focused and his mind cleared.

He felt alive. Against all odds, he was alive.

It was then Tony noticed the light shining through the mesh of the star in Steve’s uniform. As the light of the arc reactor brightened, so did the light in Steve’s chest, each of them feeding off of each other, exactly like- 

_ No, not possible _ .

Exactly like soul-lights.

_ What the fuck _ , Tony thought, semi-hysterically, as he sat up.

Steve, whose eyes had been fixed on Tony’s chest with an expression of quiet awe, looked up, startled by Tony’s abrupt movement.

“Steve, your chest,” Tony blurted out.

His hands still splayed over the arc reactor, Steve looked at his own chest, taking in the light shining through his uniform.

“Oh,” Steve breathed, his eyes widening. “ _ Oh _ ,” he repeated, his lips curving into a gorgeous smile as realization dawned.

“How?” Tony asked, his mind scrambling for an explanation besides the obvious, which was clearly impossible. Wasn’t it?

“It’s true love - you think this happens every day?” Steve quoted because his soulmate, (his  _ soulmate _ , holy fucking shit) was a giant dork and Tony laughed, giddy. It was part disbelief, part relief, and all sheer elation.

Tony was still laughing when Steve caught his mouth in a kiss. Tony felt Steve’s answering grin in the curve of his lips against Tony’s. They kissed and it was bright and happy. It was heady, having Steve’s lips against his. It felt like the pop of a champagne cork and the first fizzing sip. It felt like seeing stars for the first time, like fireworks. 

“Soulmates,” Tony said, pulling back but leaving his hands still tangled in Steve’s hair. “We’re  _ soulmates _ .”

“God, I love you,” Steve said, fervent, but then joy lighting his eyes dimmed. “I don’t know what I would’ve- Tony, you almost- I almost lost you.” Steve’s hands on Tony’s waist tightened to the point of pain.

“You didn’t,” Tony said, swinging his leg over Steve’s lap so he straddled him. “I’m fine, I’m okay.”

Steve’s hands skated across his abdomen and up his chest, as if to reassure himself that Tony was whole and unbroken. “You are? You’re sure?” he asked.  
  
“Yes,” Tony said, brushing his lips across Steve’s forehead. “Yes,” he said, ducking to kiss Steve’s cheek. “Yes,” he said, kissing the other cheek. “Yes-

With a groan, Steve seized Tony’s lips in a deep kiss, his arms encircling Tony and pressing their bodies together.

Tony returned the kiss with equal fervor, his mouth opening on a whimper as their tongues tangled. Steve’s mouth was hot and perfect under his and Tony couldn’t get enough. He felt dizzy with it. He craved more. He wanted Steve bare and warm and close. He needed pleasure to drown out the memory of pain, for love to chase away lingering fear.

Steve clearly felt the same. He kissed Tony with a single-minded intensity that sent shivery sparks racing along his nerves. He kissed Tony like he wanted to consume him, all bold lips and insistent tongue. It was a kiss that would be burned in Tony’s memory.

“You’re not allowed to leave me,” Steve said, harsh and demanding when they broke for air.

“Never,” Tony said. It was a ridiculous demand and an even more absurd promise, but Tony didn’t care. He intended to keep it. He would find a way. He and Steve were going to get their forever.

They kissed again and Tony moaned, his hips moving restlessly against Steve’s. It wasn’t enough.

“Off, off,” Tony said against Steve’s lips, hands scrabbling as he unbuckled Steve’s utility belt and rucked up the edge of his uniform top.

Steve’s hands slid from Tony’s back to his front, but before he lifted them away, he paused, staring at the reactor.

Tony stilled as well. It would be the first time Steve stopped touching Tony since re-starting the arc reactor. Both of them watched, tense and with bated breath as Steve lifted his hands from Tony’s chest.

The arc reactor stayed lit.

The corners of Steve’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, relieved.

Tony let out a breathy laugh and wasted no time in stripping Steve’s top off. Then, with deliberate care, he placed his hands on Steve’s chest and watched as his soul-light flared to life once more, the glow brilliant and beautiful.

Tony laid a kiss in the center of Steve’s chest and then moved upwards, nipping at Steve’s collarbone, licking at the salt of sweat gathered in the hollow of Steve’s throat and kissing his way along the arch of Steve’s neck. His hands thumbed at Steve’s nipples, eliciting a gasp and Tony watched, enraptured, as Steve’s flush spread from his cheeks and stained the pale skin of his throat and chest pink, a delicate contrast with the blue the of his soul-light. 

All of a sudden, the world tilted, and the next thing he knew, Tony was flat on his back on the dusty and cracked floor, Steve braced over him as he swooped in to reclaim Tony’s lips in a hungry kiss. Tony arched up, unable to stop the gasp as their bodies met and Tony finally had some relief against his aching cock.

With a growl Steve settled himself between Tony’s thighs and started moving his hips in a filthy grind.

“Fuck, yes,” Tony rasped, because God, it was good. Each roll of their hips was a burst of bright, hot pleasure that made Tony crave more. Tony’s fingers dug into the skin of Steve’s shoulders before raking down his back to grip the firm cheeks of his ass, urging him on.

Steve’s arms bracketed Tony as he moved and his eyes bore into Tony’s, dark and intent. “Tony, I need-”

“Yes, yes,” Tony said, moving to make quick work of his own zipper and then Steve’s, pulling both of their cocks free.

This time, when Steve rocked down, their hard, bare cocks slid together and the sensation, the  _ good-hot-need  _ of it, made Tony writhe, his leg hitched around Steve’s as they moved. They didn’t have any lube, just sweat and pre-cum to slick the way, and the slightly too-rough drag of skin against skin shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. Tony sunk into it, into the hot grind of Steve’s cock against his, into the clench of Steve’s fingers on his thigh, into the wet, open mouth kisses they shared as they moved.

Tony didn’t try to push for anything more complicated. He just needed this. Steve, touching as much of Tony as possible. The hard, long line of Steve’s body bracketing and covering him. As it was, he felt dizzy and lightheaded from the simple friction of their bodies moving together. Tony could hear himself, hear the noises he was making, needy and ragged.

Then, the hand Steve had been using to grip Tony’s thigh moved to wrap around both of their lengths and squeezed.

Tony arched off the ground with loud gasp, his eyes falling closed as arousal flared, fierce and blinding. 

“Beautiful,” Steve said, as he rolled his hips and pumped his fist around both of them. “You’re gorgeous like this, Tony.”

If Tony had had the brain power to form sentences, he would have argued that Steve was the beautiful one. He’d never seen anything as breathtaking as the way Steve looked right now, blue light dancing across flushed cheeks, eyes dark with desire, and expression reverent. Steve looked at him like Tony was an altar he wanted to worship at. It was glorious and heady and Tony could feel himself edging closer and closer to the precipice as Steve stroked. 

“Yes, Steve,  _ please _ ,” Tony cried out, chasing the sensation, overwhelmed at how  _ much  _ it was. And then, between one stroke and the next, Tony’s orgasm hit him, the world falling away as pleasure rolled through him.

Above him, with a gasped, “Tony,” Steve shuddered as he came, warm and slick on Tony’s stomach, his come mixing with Tony’s own release. And together, their soul-lights flared bright, a blinding flash that chased away the darkness of the room and bathed the ground, ceiling, and walls in warm blue light.

\-------

After they found the strength to clean up a little, Tony deposited himself on top of Steve, using him as buffer between the cold, dirty floor and his bare skin. Steve, who seemed quite content with the arrangement, wrapped his arms around Tony, holding him close.

With his finger, Tony traced patterns around and through the light shining in Steve’s chest. Tony had spent decades yearning for this. He’d craved and coveted it for so long. But now that he had it, he knew it didn’t matter. Soulmates weren’t some magical cure-all, fix-all for relationships. He didn’t love Steve because Steve was his soulmate. Steve was his soulmate because Tony loved him.

Tony was seized by an sudden need to make sure Steve knew. Tony surged forward, kissing him deep and fierce before pulling back. 

Steve blinked at him, looking dazed. 

“I love you,” Tony said. “More than words, more than some light in our chests, just  _ more _ . More and always.”

Steve’s smile was radiant. “I love you too, Tony.” Steve’s thumb swept along Tony’s cheekbone, his hand cupping Tony’s cheek. “I don’t think I would have survived it, losing you,” he said, voice quiet. “It was terrifying, seeing you like that.”

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, because he  _ knew _ . The anguish and fear he’d seen on Steve’s face would haunt him. He’d been more scared of hurting Steve than he had been of dying. “I know,” Tony said, “But we figured it out and we beat it. Together, like we always do.”

Steve kissed Tony, soft and sweet. “Together,” he echoed.

It felt like a promise and sounded like a vow. Tony leaned forward to kiss Steve back properly and this time, when Tony thought of the rings, he smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END! *Breathes a big sigh of relief* Thank you to everyone that was so patient with me while I worked on this story. And a special, huge THANK YOU to my beta @ishipallthings whose edits and comments made this fic infinitely better. 
> 
> This was originally meant to be a short one-shot (with the final scene where Steve re-starts the arc the reactor and they find out they’re soulmates as the centerpiece), but it quickly grew into a 60k MCU fix-it. Thank you all for sticking with it <3 Whenever I struggled to write, it was your kind words that helped me persevere.
> 
> The title comes from the Emily Dickinson poem “Hope is the thing with feathers:” “Hope is the thing with feathers/ That perches in the soul / And sings the tune without the words / And never stops at all.” The quotes sprinkled throughout the fic come from my favorite movie, “The Princess Bride.”
> 
> Feel free to come say hi to me on tumblr @[lelantusposts](https://lelantusposts.tumblr.com) and if you haven’t left kudos/a comment here yet, I would love you forever if you did!


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